


The Risk in the Story

by magickmoons



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Season/Series 06, Suspense, Wordcount: Over 50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/pseuds/magickmoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hannah involves Bones in a story Booth has declared to be too dangerous, who will pay the price?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winner Takes It All

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through Season 6.

Temperance Brennan sat at her desk, idly shuffling papers. Idleness was not a natural state for her, but she had noticed that it was a state occurring more and more frequently over the last few months. She was unwilling to admit that there was also a correlation between these periods of idleness and her interactions with either Booth or Hannah, or worse, both. She sighed heavily as she tried to wrestle her brain back under control.

Angela stood in the doorway, watching her best friend. She had just come back from another lunch with Hannah and was just as down as she always was after. Angela shook her head; she just didn't understand why Brennan was cultivating this 'friendship' when it made her feel this bad.

"Sweetie, why do you do this to yourself?"

It was a sign of how far Brennan's mind had wandered that she jumped, having had no idea Angela was standing there for over a minute. She quickly composed herself and asked, "Doing what?"

Angela stepped inside the office and settled herself on the couch. Standing these days was a little more of a trial than it had been before she got pregnant. Looking at her despondent best friend, she said, "This thing with Hannah. This is not what people do."

"I don't understand. People have friendships all the time."

Angela sighed. "Not with the girlfriend of the man they are in love with." Brennan started as if to protest, but Angela cut her off. "Not gonna fly, hon. If nothing else, the fact that you are so depressed after each of these Hannah outings just confirms what I've said for years. You're in love with him. Now tell me why you're torturing yourself by hanging out with her."

Brennan thought long and hard. She had been thrown by the Lauren Eames case and had tried to reach out to Booth. After being rebuffed by him, she had withdrawn back into her familiar compartmentalized behavior. But maybe, she needed to make sure that she didn't have regrets with any of her other relationships.

Terrified at taking this step after the attempt with Booth had gone so disastrously wrong, she pushed through. "It is the civilized thing to do. If I were to rebuff her advances, it would appear as if I were jealous or trying to drive a wedge between them."

Angela shook her head, perplexed as always at the way in which her friend's mind worked. "So what?"

"Booth appreciates behavior that conforms with social rules and expectations."

Angela scoffed. "Not when it comes to you, sweetie. That's one of the things he loves about you. I'm sure if you made some big bold declaration, he would be all 'Hannah who?'"

"No, Angela." Her heart ached to think of the how her big bold declaration had turned out.

"You never know until you try!"

"I did."

Angela stopped short at the quiet admission. "What? When?" she stammered. She looked at the sorrow on Brennan's face and stopped her, "Wait. Just hold that thought. Don't move, I'll be right back."

Hurrying back to her office, Angela grabbed a bag of chocolates and rushed back. As she passed Hodgins on her way back, he turned to talk to her, but she gave him her 'Not now, dear' look, shaking the bag of chocolates. He nodded his understanding as he watched her breeze into Brennan's office, closing the door behind her.

Pulling Brennan out of her desk chair and guiding her to the couch, Angela shook opened the bag and offered some as they sat down. Brennan looked confused. "Why are we eating chocolate?"

"Trust me, chocolate is the social rule for anything that can make you look that sad. So tell me what happened."

Brennan took a breath, uncertain where to start. "During the Lauren Eames case. I, Sweets was right, I was overidentifying with her. She had closed herself off from everyone. I think I'm afraid of the same thing happening to me."

Angela leaned forward, as much as she was able, and said earnestly. "No, Bren. You think you could disappear and none of us would notice?"

"But how would you know that I hadn't just gone off to Guatemala or Maluku again?"

Angela nodded. "Yes, that would be a possibility. But if you think that I wouldn't call out the National Guard and search every corner of the world until we know for sure, you are quite mistaken, Dr. Brennan."

"The world is round, Angela. It doesn't have corners."

Angela shook her head, smiling. "Poetic license, sweetie. So, you were shaken by the case. It's understandable. It happens to all of us at one time or another. But what happened with Booth?"

"He saved me from being hit by a car that night in the rain. And as he was driving me home, I don't know if it was the stress from the case or the elevated adrenal levels from nearly being in an accident, but I told him I didn't want to have any regrets."

"Regrets?" questioned Angela. "About what?"

"About telling I couldn't change for him, to be with him." Tears welled in her eyes and she swiped them away angrily.

Angela inquired gently, trying to cover her surprise, "He asked you?"

Brennan nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "And I was too scared, too stubborn to give us a chance. And so he said," she gulped back a sob, "he said he needed to move on. And he did."

"Oh sweetie," Angela scootched over to sit next to her friend. Brennan leaned into her and cried. Some minutes later, after the worst had passed, she sat back up and grabbed one of Angela's chocolates. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Angela assessing this new information and Brennan recovering from her breakdown.

Angela took her hand and looked at her. "I am so sorry, Brennan. But why are you insisting on torturing yourself by spending time with her?"

"It's important to Booth that we get along. I just want him to be happy. If I can't make him happy directly, then at least I can make his life easier."

Angela shook her head. Sometimes Brennan was so infuriating. "You know, usually I mean something different when I give you this advice, but screw Booth. He's not worried about your feelings. Why should you worry about his?"

Brennan shrugged. "Because I have to," she answered.

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The next day, she was working at her desk, preparing a report on her latest Limbo research. Despite the fact that nothing had changed, she found that she inexplicably felt somewhat better after having talked with Angela. She was able to better focus and was working much more efficiently than she had been previously.

When her phone rang, an involuntary smile flitted across her face as she saw Booth's home number on the caller id. Answering, she imagined him holding the heavy phone receiver he loved. "Brennan."

"Temperance, I need your help."

Hannah's voice on the other end was so surprising, she nearly dropped her phone. Recovering quickly, she replied, "Of course, Hannah, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a little project I'm working on that I'd like your assistance with. Do you think maybe we could meet for drinks later?"

Brennan reflected on her conversation with Angela the day before. Her friend had made it perfectly clear that she thought the idea of this relationship with Hannah was a bad idea. She understood that Angela was only trying to protect her but she still felt that the happiness it brought Booth was worth the emotional price she was paying.

"That sounds good. Shall I meet you at The Founding Fathers?"

Hannah paused. "How about the Elephant and Castle? I'd rather Seeley not know about this just yet."

"I'm not sure how I feel about keeping something from him. It could undermine the trust that we've built as partners," Brennan replied, trying to sublimate the bitterness she felt that Booth had already done just that when he had shared her feelings with Hannah.

"Oh, come on. I'm his girlfriend; if he finds out he'll be much madder at me than at you. Besides, it'll be a great bonding experience for us!"

She considered Hannah's point. Perhaps a shared experience that didn't involve Booth was exactly what they needed to get to a more comfortable position in the relationship.

"All right. I will agree to withhold this from Booth, temporarily. I will see you at the Elephant & Castle tonight at 8:00."

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Hannah had already gotten a booth and ordered their drinks when Brennan arrived. She slid into the booth and took a sip of her drink, pointedly ignoring her sunglasses perched on top of the blond hair.

"Thank you so much for meeting with me, Temperance," Hannah gushed. "I've totally hit a brick wall and I think you're just the person to help me past it."

"What is it I can do for you, Hannah?" she queried.

Hannah's face lit up. "Well, I'm working on this story, but I need some documents to give me some direction on where to go next. The trouble is that I can't just walk in and get them. This is a fairly large conspiracy and they are going to be suspicious of reporters." Hannah unconsciously rubbed at the scar on her leg.

"Well, what type of documents are you trying to obtain? Perhaps you could request them under the Freedom of Information Act," Brennan suggested.

Hannah shook her head. "That would just drive them further underground. I don't want them to know I'm looking at these angles."

"Perhaps Booth could obtain them through back channels. He has a lot of contacts, although if you are not supposed to have these documents, his moral code may pose a slight problem," Brennan mused. "Do you want me to try to persuade him?"

Hannah vague look of panic was missed by Brennan. "No," she said quickly. "Like I said, this isn't really something I want him to know about. Yet," she added, as an unhappy look began to cross her friend's face. "I was just thinking that as a famous author and speaker, you might be able to get into some places I can't, you know, as a journalist. You could say you're researching your next novel. And once you're in there, you could find a way to slip some information out."

"Where exactly are we talking about, Hannah?"

"Well, for instance, I need some autopsy reports from the DC morgue. And any incident reports associated with them."

Brennan considered this. It was likely that she could easily obtain access to the morgue under guise of research. And she doubted that security would be very high on completed autopsy files.

"I believe I could attempt this. But I would like to know why you are keeping Booth out of this?"

Hannah laughed lightly. "Really, I just want to protect him. There is some tie-in with law enforcement in this story. If it breaks and it comes out that he helped me, well, I wouldn't want him to get in trouble for abusing his position or something."

Hannah shuddered inwardly as she recalled the intensity of Booth's face earlier that morning. _"No," he had said. "It's way too dangerous. You've got to let this alone. If something breaks, I'll know and I'll make sure you know before everyone else. But you've got to leave this alone. Please."_

She smiled over the rim of glass. "It's just to protect him," she repeated.


	2. Distance

Booth looked up from the game as Hannah entered the apartment that night. "Hey, babe, where've you been?"

She kicked off her shoes and snuggled up next to him on the couch, kissing his cheek rough with the day's stubble. "Out with some friends from work."

Booth relaxed slightly. "Good. I hate to say it, but I was worrying that you might be working on that story." He threw his arm around her and nuzzled her hair. "I'm sorry about coming on so strong this morning. I'm just worried about you. I don't want to see you get hurt. And these are some nasty guys you're talking about."

"You don't have to worry, Seeley." She yawned and stretched. "I'm going to bed."

Booth grinned devilishly. "Sounds good." He rose and followed her to the bedroom.

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Brennan called the DC Morgue first thing the following morning to request a tour, explaining that she wanted to incorporate a character into her next novel who would be an employee of the city morgue and that she wanted to observe the procedures and practices in such a facility. The director of the morgue was thrilled to have her come visit and they set the visit for Friday morning.

She hung up the phone, satisfied, and returned to work. Finishing up her paperwork, she moved to the platform where she had requested the next set of remains from Limbo be laid out. She spent the rest of the day in intense concentration, only taking a break when Angela insisted she eat the sandwich they had brought back for her from the diner.

As the day wore on however, she found her mind persistently turning to her trip to the morgue and how she might ensure that she would be left alone at some point. She was also distracted by a nagging feeling that she couldn't identify every time she thought about the fact that Booth did not know what she and Hannah were doing. It made her quite uncomfortable, which she didn't understand. Rationally, she had decided that this was the correct course of action. This was apparently a big opportunity for Hannah. It had been difficult for the journalist to change the focus of her career and relocate to this area. If she was successful with this story, she would be happier and less likely to regret her decision. And it was obvious that Booth's happiness was intertwined with Hannah's. Brennan had broken Booth's heart that night after their meeting with Sweets and was now determined to do whatever it took to give him the happiness he deserved. Even if it wasn't her that made him happy.

She was so deep in thought, absently fiddling with a pair of tweezers, that she didn't hear the beep as a card was scanned at the entrance to the platform that evening. And when Booth's voice boomed through the now silent lab, she jumped, dropping the tweezers with a clatter.

"Hey Bones! We've got a case." He took a look at her startled expression, tinged with a hint of something else. On anyone else he would have thought it was a guilty look. But that didn't make sense with Bones. What would she have to feel guilty about?

Brennan silently berated herself for her inattentiveness and subsequent clumsiness. Stepping back into her professional persona she asked, "Where are we going?" as she hurried to her office to get her coat and bag.

"The Eastern Shore," Booth replied. "Some fishermen just stumbled onto a set of bones in a shallow grave near the Chesapeake. I'm hoping you'll be able to tell us if it's Jenny Magruder. The initial on the scene said what's left of the clothing matches."

Brennan nodded. The Jenny Magruder case had dominated the local news about a month prior. The college coed had disappeared during a weekend trip with friends. So far, there had been nothing to suggest foul play. Possibly the bones could give them something to work with. At the very least, a positive identification would allow the girl's family some closure.

The two-hour ride was tense, with long periods of silence punctuated by awkward attempts at small talk. Ever since her admission to him, they had found it difficult to be alone together. Brennan stared out the window most of the ride, watching the lonely roadside and wishing she had never voiced her feelings. Now her pain was out there for everyone to see, rather than something private she could just push aside into its place and pretend everything was okay.

Booth, for his part, did not know how to act around her now. He was angry at her, both for rejecting him the year before and for coming to this miraculous conclusion at precisely the wrong time for him, when he had waited so long. He was angry and hurt and, he had to admit, a little scared of the feelings that had flared up in him for just a moment when she had said she wanted to give them a chance. He had had to make a split second decision. He had opted to hold on to his relationship with Hannah, rather than risk having his heart broken again when Bones returned to her normal, rational self.

Finally, they arrived. The body, badly decomposed and scavenged by local animal life, had been buried in a small wooded area that bordered this section of the bay. The local police had already taped off the area and set up floodlights for Brennan to examine the body.

After several minutes, she nodded and stood up. "Well, obviously I can't say for certain until we check dental records, but this is a female and approximately the right age. Put that together with the clothing, and I would tentatively posit that this is Jenny Magruder." She looked sadly at the remains as she peeled off her gloves. "I'm going to need the body and surrounding soil. Hodgins will probably want samples of the water as well, and notations of each type of tree in the surrounding area." Leaving Booth to deal with the logistics, she walked to the edge of the water and stared out across the wide expanse.

Booth came up behind her a while later. He could see her silhouette dark as she stared out over the water. It was a crisp winter night, with the stars shining like bright pinpoints overhead. The water was dark and could be faintly heard lapping at the shore. He always felt God in scenes like this and he wondered what Bones was thinking as her analytical mind processed the same scene.

"What are you thinking about?" _No harm in asking_ , he thought.

She was silent for so long that he had just about given up on her answering him, when she turned to him. "It's so beautiful," she said. "At least, she was somewhere beautiful." Then shivering in a sudden breeze off the water, she asked, "Are we going back tonight, or do you want to stay to investigate?"

Booth was stunned by the sentimentality of her statement. He was surprised also that she had shared it with him. It was difficult these days even getting her to share her breakfast order; not that they had had breakfast very often lately. They were growing apart, he felt it, and he didn't know how to stop it. But maybe this was a positive sign. Maybe, just maybe, they could weather this and come through it as friends.

"I figured we'd head back tonight. I've got copies of all the initial interviews with her friends and family that I can brush up on while you do your bone thing. Until we have at least a concrete ID, it won't make much sense to talk to them again."

Brennan was secretly relieved that their time together would be limited. Keeping a secret from Booth was very difficult for her, adding stress to her already considerable anxiety regarding her dealings with him.

Booth looked back out over the water and said, "It really is beautiful, though isn't it? Might be kind of nice if we had an excuse to spend a few days here." He glanced over at Bones, trying to see if she would recapture the romanticism that had struck her a moment ago.

"The Chesapeake Bay is a tremendous natural resource," she mused. "It's too bad that its ecology is so badly damaged."

He nodded. "I think maybe I'll bring Parker down here sometime in the summer. Maybe we could go fishing." He indicated that they should start back to the car with a nod of his head. Brennan followed him down the path.

The ride home was once again mostly silent. About halfway through the trip, Booth's voice broke the silence. "So, you got any plans for the weekend, Bones?"

She started from her half-dozing stupor. "What? Why?" she asked.

Booth grimaced. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were asleep."

"I wasn't asleep, just a victim of what is colloquially called 'highway hypnosis.' Why do you want to know about my weekend?"

"Just making conversation, trying to stay awake."

"Oh, social plans," Brennan thought out loud.

Booth looked confused. "Yeah."

"Well, Angela has invited me to a party that she and Hodgins are throwing. She has informed me that there will be a number of young, attractive, eligible men there and that she intends to live vicariously through me."

He laughed. "Don't tell me she's getting tired of marriage already!"

"Actually, I believe the vicarious experience may be the imbibing of alcohol. Although, she and Hodgins have been together for some time and I am sure that the neuro-chemical reactions that characterize the start of any relationship have begun to settle. They are entering a new phase of their relationship, in this instance parenthood, when the frenzy of hormones is replaced by companionship and nurturing to form a mutual partnership to support the proliferation of their genes."

"That's called love, Bones." She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Love is what's left after the 'frenzy of hormones' goes away. It's the day-to-day, and the mundane, and…" he trailed off, wondering why he was trying to convince her of the existence of love yet again. In the past, he had always harbored some hope, however deeply buried, that one day she would understand him and want to share it with him. But their moment had passed, hadn't it?

Brennan ignored the twisting feeling in her stomach at his words. In her head, she inferred _Love is what you can't give_. An awkward silence fell over them again as they both retreated into themselves, desperately wishing for a return to the easy camaraderie they had shared before.

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The next morning, Brennan opened her email to find the list from Hannah of whose records she was to 'procure' during her visit to the morgue the following day. She didn't recognize any of the names, so she simply printed the list out and placed it in the notebook she intended to bring with her to strengthen her 'cover' of doing research.

The bones she and Booth had examined the night before were delivered by mid-morning and she spent the bulk of the day working with Dr. Edison in examination of the bones. Comparison of dental records did indeed confirm the identity of Jenny Magruder, but cause of death was less apparent. There was considerable cranial trauma to examine, but a fall seemed to be the likely proximate cause of death.

Around 4:00, Brennan hurried to Cam's office, hoping to catch her before she left for the day. Her boss was looking disgruntled as she worked at her computer. Brennan tapped on the door and stepped in.

Cam smiled as she saw her visitor. "Dr. Brennan, what can I do for you?"

"Am I interrupting?" Brennan asked. "You looked… preoccupied."

Cam groaned and stretched. "No, I could use the break. Just going over our budget in light of the latest round of funding cuts. Please, come in and sit down."

"Actually, I just wanted to let you know that I need to take a personal day tomorrow."

Cam blinked. Temperance Brennan never took time off. They practically had to drag her out of the lab at the end of the day and her only vacations were working ones.

Brennan looked at her boss, lost in thought and gently prodded, "Dr. Saroyan?"

"Oh! Um, yes, of course you can have the time. Wait, what about the remains?"

"Jenny Magruder?" Brennan questioned. At Cam's nod, she said, "I believe that Dr. Edison can competently continue with the examination on his own. He can send me any new findings throughout the day and I can review them."

"Okay," Cam said slowly. "What about Booth?"

"What about him?"

"Well, does he know you're taking the day off? What if he needs you?"

"I will accessible by phone, of course. But Agent Booth is quite capable of handling this case without my constant presence. I have actually been thinking of pulling back from some of the fieldwork, in any case." After the conversation of the night before, Brennan was feeling more confident that her decision to distance herself from Booth was the correct one.

Cam was confused, but talking with Dr. Brennan often left her feeling a little off-kilter. "May I ask what you're going to be doing? If it's not too intrusive?"

"I'm doing some research for my next book. I'll be touring the DC Morgue in the morning and compiling my notes in the afternoon."

Cam nodded. "The morgue, huh? Well, I'm always available if you need any expert advice," she grinned.

Brennan inwardly grimaced. Of course, she would have consulted Cam before going to complete strangers if she were really do research on her book. Trying to play it off, she said, "Of course, Dr. Saroyan. At this point, I'm just investigating some physical details of the location. I'm not even sure that I will be using it."

"Well, have a good day, anyway, Dr. Brennan."

Watching Brennan walk down the hallway, Cam shook her head. Something was going on with her star anthropologist, and Cam wasn't at all convinced that it was something good.


	3. Revelations

Brennan showed up at the DC Morgue bright and early the following morning. She was met by the director, Dr. Nick Halden, who was obviously a little star struck at meeting a famous author. Brennan found she had to engage in the socially obligatory chit chat over coffee before the tour could even begin. Finally, he began to show her around the facility.

As they reached the administrative offices, Brennan prepared to start her attempts to get some time alone, when a younger man rushed up to them. Stammering, he addressed the Director, "Dr. Halden, there's been an… It wasn't my fault, but… You'd better come and see."

Dr. Halden turned to Brennan and said, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Brennan. We're a little short staffed here and I often have to help out in emergencies. If I could just leave you to your own devices while I attend to this matter, we can talk again before you leave."

Hiding a smile, Brennan replied, "Of course, Dr. Halden. Please, don't worry about me."

The two men went rushing off, with the younger continuing to stammer about a sterilizer with a door blown off. As soon as they were out of sight, Brennan looked around to get her bearings and couldn't believe her good luck, she was immediately outside the records room. Letting herself in, she noted that everything was on paper here, she didn't even see a computer in the room. She pulled Hannah's list from her notepad and began searching the files.

While the filing system seemed to be only loosely based on the alphabet, Brennan was able to find all nine files fairly quickly. Slipping them into her bag, she walked out of the file room in search of a copier. Finding one a few rooms down, she pulled the files out to begin to make copies of the documents contained within. Several of them were only one page, obviously only a perfunctory exam had been performed. Two had criminal activity reports still attached to them. All nine were gunshot victims.

After finishing making the copies, she quickly returned the original files to their proper locations in the file cabinets. As Dr. Halden still hadn't returned, she sat at an empty desk and made some notes. He returned only a few minutes later, apologizing profusely.

"Please don't worry about it, Doctor. I think that I've gathered enough information to move forward. I appreciate your time."

Minutes later, she was in the parking garage, texting Hannah before she drove away.

 _I've got them._

Almost immediately, she received a response from Hannah.

 _Meet me at my apartment._

Brennan's stomach dropped a bit at the thought of going to Hannah's place, which was really Booth's. She hadn't been there since the afternoon they had helped her move in. But she had promised to help, so steeling her resolve, she pulled out of the garage and turned toward Booth's apartment.

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Hannah opened the door with a big smile on her face. "Temperance, please come in. I can't believe you got them so quickly!" She took the copies that Brennan handed her and led the way into the apartment. "Come and sit down, I made some salad for us."

Brennan cautiously followed Hannah, surreptitiously looking around to see what changes she had been making to Booth's apartment. Not many, she noted. A few new photographs, some space on the desk piled with newspaper clippings. Brennan breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Noting the table set with a large bowl of salad and some bread, she said, "The salad looks delicious, but I really wasn't planning on staying long."

Hannah looked sheepish. "Well, I was hoping to entice you to stay, because I kind of need a little more help."

"Well, what do you need?" Brennan asked reluctantly.

"I need to understand these reports."

"Oh, well, Cam would be the best resource for that. I can give her a call." Brennan was pulling out her cell phone as Hannah rushed to stop her.

"No, no. The more people who know about this, the more the risk that someone will find out what I'm onto, maybe scoop me. You're well-versed in all this, you've been doing this for years."

Brennan shook her head. "But it's not my field. I can't speak with authority."

Hannah laughed. "Trust me, I am confident that you can interpret these accurately for my purposes. Please, Temperance? Just give it a try. I won't hold you responsible for anything. Seeley will be at work for the rest of the afternoon. We could look at them right now."

"Okay," she sighed.

They sat at the table, helping themselves to salad as they spread the papers out over the dining table. Brennan reviewed all the autopsy reports as well as the accompanying crime reports. After half an hour, she looked at Hannah quizzically. "What are you onto here?"

"What do you see? I don't want to say anything that might taint your conclusions."

"These reports are fallacious. They draw conclusions that aren't supported by evidence and seem to ignore obvious evidentiary leads." She held up the three single sheets and continued, "I wouldn't be surprised to find that autopsies were not actually even performed in these cases."

Hannah looked excited. "That's what I suspected. Can you tell what type of gun was used in the shootings?"

Brennan looked apprehensive. "That is really difficult to do just from descriptions and a couple of photographs."

"An educated guess is all I'm asking."

"Well, these conclusions indicate that these murders were performed with a number of different guns, but the consistency of the wound descriptions and photos would indicate that they were performed with the same caliber of gun and it was a large one."

Hannah was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Like a cop's gun?"

Brennan looked at her sharply. "Hannah, are you still investigating the same story that got you shot? I thought Booth asked you to leave it alone for now."

"Temperance, I thought you of all people would understand. This is my job. I can't just not do it because he's worried. I mean, don't tell me you always do exactly what he tells you."

Brennan reflected for a moment. "You do have a point, Hannah. I understand that Booth's alpha male tendencies do tend to be aggravating, but he does has a particularly intuitive gut. Perhaps you should listen to him."

"Listen, moving here, taking myself off the international scene cost me a lot in career capital. Don't get me wrong, I love Seeley, and I don't regret it, exactly. But I really need a big story. And this is going to be huge."

"So, what's next?" Brennan asked.

"What I'm seeing here, there's a pattern. All the victims are dealers and all the reports either indicate other dealers as suspects or persons of interest. But I've managed to get a fairly up-to-date listing of the major players in the city. And there are two whose names aren't anywhere on any of these reports. Two dealers that the police don't want any attention drawn to. That's my next step. I need to talk to them."

"Oh, Hannah, you should take Booth with you."

She shook her head vehemently. "You know he's not going to want to let me anywhere near this."

Brennan tried to make her reasoning clear. "You will be going into a culture that denigrates women. They revere uber-masculinity and physical strength. Booth is a very large and imposing man; he would give you some authority with which to speak to them. Not to mention, it will be incredibly dangerous. You shouldn't go alone in any case."

"Then come with me." At Brennan's initial rejection, Hannah continued. "Look, I'm going. I'll find out where they operate tomorrow and I'm going down there on Sunday. By myself if I have to, but as you pointed out, it might be dangerous. I would be safer if I had someone with me."

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Booth strode through the lab, whistling. He peeked in Bones' office and saw that she wasn't there. Going up to the platform where Hodgins and Angela were talking, he asked, "Where's Bones?"

Angela looked surprised. "She took the day off. Didn't she tell you?"

"She took the day off," he repeated. "Is she sick?"

"No, man," answered Hodgins. "She's researching for her book."

Booth tried to understand this. Bones took off, during a case, to research her book. It didn't make sense. And why didn't she tell him?

"She's staying in touch with Clark by phone. You don't have to worry about the case," Angela offered.

"Yeah, okay," Booth said, still perplexed. "So, Hodgins, I heard you're having a party. I don't rate an invite?" He thought that he had developed a pretty good rapport with the squints. He and Bones had always gone to their events in the past.

Hodgins looked uncomfortable and mumbled, "You'll have to talk to the missus about that."

Booth turned, "Angela?"

The artist took a deep breath. She knew that she would have to have this conversation eventually. With a sympathetic face, she put a hand on Booth's arm. "You know we're your friends, right?"

Booth nodded, confused.

"But you also know that Bren's my best friend?" He nodded again. "So, I have to put her first. And if someone's hurting her,"

"Wait," Booth interrupted. "Who's hurting her?"

Angela sighed angrily. "You are! And you don't even see it." At the hurt look on his face, she continued, as calmly as she could. "When you told her you loved her," Hodgins perked up at this and listened intently, "you had had, what, months to come to terms with that fact? Months to think about it and dream about it and talk to people about it. And how long did you give her to figure out her feelings for you?"

"Well," Booth said, a bit defensively. "We had a conversation."

"A conversation? So you gave her what, five, ten minutes to hear that you love her and decide if she loves you back? And when she got scared and pulled back, scared by the way of not being enough for _you_ , of hurting _you_ , you just moved on. I mean, this is a woman who needs at least half a day's notice if we change dinner plans! And you expect her to be able to upend her whole life view in a matter of minutes!"

Booth began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"And then, you come back with that... with Hannah and you parade her around in front of Brennan like you never cared."

"Angela, it's Bones. She doesn't, she didn't believe in love. Not the way we do."

"God, Booth, you just don't get it. She loves you so much. And she told you and then you just go and tell Hannah all about it."

At this point Hodgins couldn't keep from exclaiming, "Wait, what?"

Angela looked over at him, her anger at Booth causing her to snap at her husband. "Marital privilege, honey. You can't repeat any of this."

Booth was standing there looking shell-shocked. He'd never Angela like this. He wondered if it was all the maternal hormones coming into play. "You told Hannah. Brennan opened her heart to you, she bared her soul to you, and you told Hannah. So, no, you're not invited to the party. I'm going to do my best to show Bren that there's a life without you. Not that she's ever going to open up to anyone else now, but at least she doesn't have to be around constant pain."

With that, Angela walked off, tears in her eyes. Hodgins sighed and turned back to his bugs. Booth turned and left, confused and scared. Had he really jumped the gun when it came to Bones? What if he had given her more time? But now there was Hannah to think about as well. Had he managed to screw up all three of their lives?

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When Booth opened the door to his apartment and heard Bones laughing, he almost turned around and walked right back out. But of course they had heard the door open and Hannah yelled, "Hey Seeley!"

He walked in slowly. Maybe Angela was wrong. Here was Bones, laughing and sharing a glass of wine with Hannah. But it was Bones, the master of hiding her feelings. His heart was racing. As he drew near where they were seated on the couch, Hannah tilted her head up for a kiss. He noticed Bones look away sharply, and merely gave Hannah the faintest brush across the lips.

"So, Bones, what are you doing here?" his befuddled mind could only supply the most banal of conversational tacks.

Hannah jumped in. "Temperance was doing some research downtown and I ran into her. We decided to have a girls' afternoon."

Something in Booth snapped at that point. "I can't believe you, Bones. What are doing? We have a case and you go off on your own little personal errand and then take the afternoon off? I am trying to find out if we have a killer to catch. Maybe you don't care about that girl, but I do."

"Seeley!" Hannah admonished.

"No, Hannah," Brennan said, standing up. "Booth's right. We do have a case. Which is why I have stayed in contact with Dr. Edison all day. And it's also why I can tell you that we have determined that Jenny Magruder died after a fall from a height of about 100 – 120 feet, hitting something metallic at least twice on the way down. Hodgins has the particulates from the wounds and may be able to tell us something soon."

Booth just stared at her. That sinking feeling was coming back. This afternoon seemed to be one misstep after another.

Brennan waited for him to say something. After a minute, she grabbed her coat and bag and headed for the door. Hannah glared at Booth and hurried after her. "Temperance, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into him."

Brennan shrugged.

Hannah lowered her voice, "Will you still come with me on Sunday? I could really use a black-belt for backup," she wheedled.

"I'll be there." At this point, she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about Booth's ignorance of this project. She smiled weakly at Hannah and left.

Hannah walked back into the apartment and then into the bedroom where Booth had obviously retreated. "What's going on with you?" she asked, worried that he may have caught wind of what they were doing.

He looked at Hannah and realized he couldn't stay here while he tried to think. He was too tense. Opening the closet, he grabbed his gym bag. "I'm going to work out. I just," he tried to smooth out his tone. Hannah was not to blame for his mental turmoil. "I just need to think some stuff through."

Hannah let him leave. It wouldn't do any good to try to talk to him when he was in a mood like that. Besides, she thought, pulling out the documentation for her story, she had to make her plan of attack for Sunday.


	4. Changes

Brennan looked stunning at Angela's party in a tea-length black cocktail dress, her hair loose and wavy. Every man there, single or not, noticed her and she had no shortage of conversation partners. Yet, every time Angela looked for her, she was with a different man or group of people. A couple of hours into the party, Angela pulled her aside.

"Nobody catching your interest?"

Brennan smiled wanly. She had only shown up out of consideration for Angela. It seemed odd, but once she had realized that she loved Booth, she had truly lost all interest in other men. The men she had talked to tonight were fun, intelligent, witty, and attractive; yet she felt no desire to pursue anything with any of them, either physically or socially.

"I'm sorry, Angela. I know you only want me to be happy."

Suddenly Angela shook her head. "No, Bren. I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't be pushing you." She sighed. "It's too soon. I get that." Looking back into the crowded room, she shrugged. "This is boring anyway. Come on," she said with a grin as she grabbed Brennan's hand, pulling her down the hallway.

"Ange, where are we going?"

"To the kitchen. The baby wants ice cream!"

As they sat, eating bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Brennan commented, "You know, Angela, the average pregnancy only requires a woman to eat about 500 more calories per day. I think women have run with this idea of pregnancy cravings to enable them to eat anything they want."

She looked up to find her friend glaring at her. "Sweetie, you do know how dangerous it is to tell a pregnant woman that she's eating too much, right?"

"Oh! No, I was just, um, commenting," Brennan stammered.

Angela laughed. "I'm just kidding. But if I want to indulge myself every now and then, I'm okay with that. Would you rather I'd have said that we need a girlfriend "Men are Evil" ice cream fest? We can go with that!"

Brennan laughed and scooped some more ice cream into her bowl.

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Brennan met Hannah mid Sunday morning. Together they took the Metro to the Anacostia station. As they walked through run-down neighborhoods with dilapidated houses and deserted lots, Hannah filled Brennan in on where they were going.

"Apparently, one of the dealers, a Willy D., works out of an old school down here. My contacts were pretty sure he'd be here. If I get him to give me some information, we'll be golden."

Brennan thought Hannah was being optimistic, but this was her field of expertise. Maybe she could really get this guy to turn on his partners. That thought led to thoughts of how Booth could get suspects to confess so easily sometimes. She supposed it was just one more thing he had in common with Hannah. She was so lost in thought that she almost ran into Hannah as she stopped suddenly.

"We're here."

They made their way into the deserted school building. Brennan questioned, "Are you sure there's someone here? It's so quiet." Even whispering, her voice seemed to shatter the silence.

Hannah suggested, "Let's just look a little more." She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Something didn't feel right.

They wandered down another hallway, coming into what must have once been a gymnasium. Brennan was just about to suggest they leave when they felt someone walk in behind them. A cold voice said, "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Brennan whirled around. As she did, she noticed that several others had come in behind the first man and were quickly surrounding her and Hannah. She backed up so that she was back to back with Hannah, who hadn't moved. She needed to know where her friend was should things start to get physical.

Hannah found her voice. "We, um, we're looking for Willy D." She cursed inwardly as she heard the tremble in her words.

The first man said, "Now why would a couple of nice ladies like you be looking for a scumbag like Willy?"

"Just, we were hoping, he could,"

"Don't try to lie to me, sweetheart. Neither of you use anything that he sells."

Brennan was straining to see through the gloom. There were at least a dozen men surrounding them, mostly hidden in the gloom and shadows. They were all dressed in street clothes but several of them had obvious bulges where their guns rested in shoulder holsters or at their hips. She would be willing to bet that the rest of them were armed as well. If it had just been her, she might have risked trying to get to the door, but getting two of them out against multiple guns looked to be very unlikely.

Hannah was continuing the conversation. "Okay, so I wanted to talk to him."

The man laughed. "Willy won't be talking to anybody anytime soon, if you know what I mean." He gestured to a couple of the men surrounding them. "Let's find out who they are."

The men stepped up and started roughly frisking the two women, taking maybe a little more time than was necessary in certain areas. Brennan gritted her teeth, her eyes on the face of the leader, trying to memorize his features. He was staying just far enough back to make it difficult to see.

Finally, the two men pulled back and handed the wallets they had procured to the leader. "They're clean," one of them offered. The leader looked through the wallets.

"So, we have Hannah Burley," he said with a note of recognition. "The reporter that's causing us so many problems. And," he looked at Brennan's driver's license and Jeffersonian ID badge, "Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. What do you do there, Ms. Brennan?"

She couldn't help it. "It's _Doctor_ Brennan. I'm a scientist."

The man's smile could dimly be seen. "So sorry, Dr. Brennan. Well, I hope you understand what your friend has gotten you into here. It would be in everyone's best interests that you persuade her to drop this flight of fancy she is pursuing in the guise of a story."

Hannah said angrily. "Is that a threat?"

"Not a threat. Just a caution. Your friend here might not appreciate seeing your story in print." He walked closer to Brennan as he was talking, raised his hand and ran his finger slowly down her cheek. She called on all her reserves to not flinch, the look in her eyes betraying his true intentions even before his hand abruptly lifted and backhanded her across the cheek. She turned her head back to the front, silently, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, tasting the blood on her tongue where her cheek has been cut against her teeth.

Hannah yelled, "Stop it. You don't have to hurt her! I get it, okay?" Brennan tried to silence her by grabbing her hand. Her experience with death squads and angry mobs had shown her than the worst thing you could do would be to show fear or weakness.

The man laughed. He had pegged the scientist for the weak link, but the reaction from the brunette had been distinctly unsatisfying. The blonde, however, was quite making up for it. Honestly, she might be about to cry. "I think we've made our point. Goodbye, Ms. Burley, Dr. Brennan."

Dropping Hannah and Brennan's IDs and wallets on the floor, all of the men turned and slowly filed out. Hannah turned to Brennan, shaking. "God, Temperance, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she replied, slowly moving her fingers along her cheekbone, making sure there were no fractures. She spit out some blood. "Are you okay? You seem very upset. I would have thought you would be used to dangerous situations, after Afghanistan."

Hannah bit her lip, feeling a bit sick. "Not like this. Sure, I've been under fire, had bombs dropping around me, but," she hesitated. "Nothing this personal. Not where someone was trying to hurt me personally. Come on, we've got to get you some ice."

They made their way slowly out the school, going their separate ways once they reached the Metro station.

"Temperance, are you sure you're okay on your own? Do you want me to come over?" Hannah asked as they waited for their trains.

The last thing Brennan wanted was for Hannah to invade her personal sanctum. Besides a bruised cheek was nothing she hadn't dealt with before. "I'll be fine. But I am worried about you. At least some of those men were likely to be police officers. If you publish this story, the retribution could be severe."

Hannah shook her head. "Willy D. was going to be my big source. I'm honestly not even sure how I would pursue it now. I'm just sorry you got hurt for what is, apparently, a big goose egg."

Brennan looked confused. "I don't know what that means."

"A goose egg. A big zero. It didn't work out."

"Oh. I'll be fine. I'm sorry about your story."

Brennan's train came first and she waved at Hannah as she wearily took a seat, wishing only to be home with an ice pack. Hannah watched the train pulling out, a smile suddenly brightening her face as she realized there was one more avenue left to explore. Her mind suddenly switching tacks, she began making notes on how to get the evidence she would need to get this story published.

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Monday morning, Angela found Cam waiting for her when she got to the lab. Cam had been worried all weekend about Dr. Brennan's odd behavior and wanted to get a second opinion. Ushering Angela into her office, she started, "Angela, is Dr. Brennan okay?"

Angela hesitated, not wanting to reveal any of her friend's secrets, but touched that their boss had obviously recognized the turmoil in Brennan's life right now. "Not really, but I think she's going to be okay."

"She told me last week that she wanted to stop doing fieldwork."

Angela was a little taken aback. She knew how much Brennan enjoyed that aspect of her job. But maybe a little break was in order. "I think you should let her, for now at least."

Cam sighed. "It's Hannah, isn't it? I knew she wasn't handling it as well as she wanted to believe."

"It's not Hannah," Angela responded. "I mean, it is but it's really more Booth being a complete ass."

Cam's eyebrows shot up. "What's going on?"

"I wish I could tell you, Cam. I really do, but I don't want to betray any confidences. She's actually talking to me for the first time in months and I don't want to make her feel like she can't trust me."

"Fair enough, but please let me know if there is anything I can do."

"Just keep being her friend," Angela offered.

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Brennan was in her office, trying not see anyone. She had done a fairly competent job covering the bruise along her cheek and under her eye, but she knew that it was still visible if someone looked very closely.

Booth strolled through the lab and hesitated at the door to Bones' office. He felt terrible about blowing up at her on Friday, especially since it hadn't even been her fault that he was in a bad mood. He had worked out and gotten his mind back on track. True, Angela had some points. Maybe he could have handled the situation better last year, but now was now and that was what he had to deal with. Get his partnership back with Bones and move on. If she was willing. That was what worried him. What if she wasn't willing?

Taking a deep breath, he tapped on her door. "Hey, Bones."

She looked up and icily said, "Booth."

He walked in and sat across from her, looking her straight in the eyes as he said, "I'm sorry for Friday. I should never have yelled at you. I was just in a really bad mood and I thought, I mean, it looked like you were just…"

"Shirking my duties, Booth? When have you ever known me to do that?" She tried to keep her attention focused on the paperwork on her desk.

"Never, Bones, which is what makes it so monumentally stupid. I," he stopped. "Will you please look at me?"

She looked up briefly, trying to angle the bruised side of her face away from him. Maybe she would have been better off if she hadn't tried to hide it, because if there was one thing Seeley Booth could detect, it was when someone didn't want him to notice something. He got up and walked around the desk, looking her directly in the face. The discoloration he could see under her makeup made him feel sick.

"What the hell happened, Bones?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play me. Your cheek." His hand reached out as if to soothe the damage, but then he reluctantly pulled it back.

"I fell," Brennan said.

"You fell," he said doubtfully. "And hit your face? You realize I've heard that one before right?"

"I chose not to try to break my fall with my hands. Oftentimes, that results in fracture of the scaphoid or tearing of the ligaments. However, I miscalculated the proximity of my coffee table and caught my cheek on the edge." Her brain was scrambling to make the story seem believable.

She had decided last night not to share their adventure with Booth. Hannah was dropping the story and the last thing his career needed was for him to take off on a vendetta against other law enforcement officers for threatening his girlfriend. Especially when her descriptions of them would be so woefully lacking in detail. And, she could admit only in her most private thoughts, she was more than a little ashamed of how she had acted. Keeping secrets, stealing information, and aiding Hannah in activities that Booth disapproved of. She honestly didn't know what had come over her.

Booth was perplexed. His gut was telling him something was wrong. But it wasn't in her character for Bones to lie. Plus he could see her actually reasoning all of that out in the split second that she started to fall. But something was in her eyes that made him doubt. He couldn't factually counter her statement, though, without seeing the bruise clearly. The makeup job was good enough that he couldn't make out its contours. No, the Temperance Brennan he knew would never cover it up if someone hit her. Maybe he should just take this one on faith.

"Okay, well, just don't do that again, all right?"

She smiled oddly. "I can assure you that situation will not happen again. So what are you doing here?"

He smiled back. "I was just wondering if Hodgins had found anything out from those particulates you said he was testing?"

"Actually, yes. I was going to call you in a few minutes. We found presence of rust and several chemical indicators. Hodgins is fairly certain that they point to a water tower. I noticed that there was one not far from where we found the body. It is likely that she fell from there."

"Well, all right! Let's go." Booth was excited. This was what he liked. The squints doing their thing, and then going out with Bones to use that to catch the bad guys.

"Actually, I think I need to stay here today. Perhaps you should go on without me."

Booth felt his excitement deflate as if someone had punctured a tire. Go without her? "What's going on, Bones? You're not still mad about Friday, are you?"

"Of course not Booth. I just have a lot of work to get through here, and I don't think it is the best use of my time to go out there with you."

Cam happened to be passing Brennan's office and overhead the discussion. Remembering Angela's words, she popped her head in, "Dr. Brennan, are you working on those reports I asked you for? Oh, hi Booth! I didn't realize you were here."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I was just trying to convince Bones to come with me to follow up on the water tower lead."

Cam shook her head, looking regretful. "I'm sorry, but I just can't let her go today. I've got the bureaucracy breathing down my neck and I really need her help."

Booth didn't miss the quick look of surprise that crossed Bones' face. A cold feeling settled over him. Obviously, Angela wasn't the only mad at him. His voice tight, he said, "Sure, I understand. I'll let you all know what I find out."

Cam followed him and caught up to him at the door the lab. "Seeley."

He turned to look at her, anger and hurt written across his face.

"I told you, you had to be careful with her. I will do what I have to to protect her, even if it's from you."

"Cam," he protested.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt her. I don't even know how you hurt her, but I know that you did."

He swallowed roughly. "I'm going to make it up to her. I promise."

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As he made the two hour drive to the Eastern Shore alone, his mind kept running in circles. He thought about all that Angela had said to him, and now Cam. He was hurting Bones. That was the last thing he had ever wanted to do. But he had to protect himself didn't he? It had been killing him, being close to her, sharing his life with her but not able to share his heart. He would make it up to her, find some way to get them back on track.

But he was even more worried about that bruise. He had no reason not to trust her, but it really wasn't like her to fall. And there was something about the look in her eyes that concerned him. He remembered that she had gone to that party this weekend. What if she had left with someone and something had happened? But why wouldn't she tell him?

He grabbed his phone and dialed Angela's number.

"Hello?"

"Angela, it's Booth. Listen, I know you're still angry at me, but I need to know if something happened at your party this weekend. Or did Bones leave with anyone?" he asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Jealous?"

"Ange," he warned. Of course she wasn't going to make this easy for him. "Bones has a bruise on her face. She said she fell, but I wanted to make sure that it wasn't from some idiot trying to get fresh with her."

Angela hadn't seen her friend all morning and was shocked by Booth's news. She answered quickly, "No, Booth. She didn't hit it off with anyone. We ended up hanging out, just the two of us, until after everyone left. I've got to go."

"Yeah, thanks for putting my mind at ease."

"No problem. And, Booth, thanks for worrying."

Angela hung up and immediately headed for Brennan's office. Walking in and taking a seat, she said, "So what happened?"

Brennan looked up. "In what sense?"

Angela's eyes pored over her face, picking up what Booth had seen. "In the sense of your face, honey. Booth said you said you fell?"

"Yes, I did."

"Bren," Angela shook her head. "I want to believe you, but," she sighed. "You haven't been you lately. And it's understandable, everything's turned upside down and you're hurting."

Brennan looked at her best friend, sitting there being so understanding and sympathetic and thought of the mess she had gotten herself involved in. "No, Ange, I haven't been myself. But that's over. I'm me again and you don't have to worry. Okay?"

Angela saw how earnest Brennan was and smiled uneasily. Something had happened that she wasn't sharing. No matter what she said, Angela just wasn't sure that everything was going to be okay.


	5. The Storm Breaks

The next week passed in a bizarre parody of normalcy. Booth solved his case. He dropped by to let the squints know that the girl had fallen from the water tower after partying with her friends. Her friends, underage and inebriated, had tried to cover up her death to avoid getting into trouble. Unfortunately, that now meant they had to go to court for charges such as illegal disposal of a body and making false statements to the police, and possibly, if the DA was running for something, reckless endangerment/manslaughter. He was hoping to talk to Bones after updating everyone, but she and Angela managed to disappear somehow just before he finished.

With no new case, Bones avoiding him, and Hannah wrapped up in some new story, Booth was spending a lot of time alone this week. As he flipped channels every evening before bed, he started to realize that it was Bones he was missing, not Hannah. He told himself it was because Hannah still came home every night, even if it was late, but deep in his heart, he was beginning to wonder.

Brennan had thrown herself back into work at the lab and into her writing with gusto. She was still uncertain what had caused the bizarre aberration in her personality and work ethic, but was determined to make up for it with a renewed focus. It didn't hurt that it also helped keep her mind off Booth.

All pretenses of normalcy ended the following Monday morning.

Brennan overslept. Not late enough that she would be late for work, but she was running far enough behind that she didn't have time to sit and read the paper while drinking her coffee. Filling a travel mug, she grabbed the paper from where it lay at her door and placed it on the sideboard as she walked out. Heading to the elevator, she remembered that she wasn't parked in the garage as usual. When she had returned from visiting her father yesterday, there had been some sort of construction activity blocking the entrance to her building's garage. Instead, she pushed the button for the lobby.

Sipping her coffee as she walked through, she waved good morning to the doorman, and exited through the front door. Turning to the right, she began walking to the far end of the block where she had parked her car. In the early morning darkness, she didn't see the man approaching her. She didn't hear the bullet. She was only aware of a sudden fiery pain and a feeling like a weight crushing her chest. She dimly recognized the symptoms of shock beginning to pervade her body as she dropped to her knees.

Shoes appeared in front of her. They were connected to legs. Following them up to see a cold face, she heard a car pull up alongside them. They were going to move her. She couldn't lift her arm, she couldn't catch her breath. There was no way she could fight them. Reaching her hands in front of her, she slid her ring off, dropping it the few inches to the ground. Booth would come. He would know this was where they had grabbed her. Blackness started filling her vision as she felt two pairs of hands grab her and lift her into the trunk of a car. One thought repeated over and over as she relinquished consciousness: Booth would come. He had to.

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Booth threw the paper down on his kitchen counter as Hannah waited nervously for his reaction. Her story exposing the cop-drug ring was on the front page, and she was extremely proud of her work. However, she could tell by his face as he read it that they would be having a Talk.

Booth drew a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger to give her a chance to present her side of things. "I don't understand. We agreed that you weren't going to pursue this story."

"Seeley," she said patiently, "It's a huge deal."

"Yes," he interrupted. "It is. These are very dangerous men. How could you be this reckless?"

"God, Seeley. I'm not totally naive. I took precautions. See, I'm still here and I'm fine."

"And what about today? You named names, Hannah! You think they're not going to be looking for payback?" He grabbed his phone. "I'm ordering a protective detail for you."

"You don't have to. I gave the list to the ADA yesterday. They secured the warrants in the afternoon and were serving them overnight."

"And what if there's a leak in the DA's office? What if you don't know all the people involved?" He pounded his fist against the counter, then looked ruefully at her. "I'm sorry, baby. I just worry about you."

She smiled back, thinking that they had moved past the worst of the argument. "I know, Temperance said you would. That's why I swore her to secrecy."

A cold fog settled over Booth. "Bones knew?" Hannah didn't need to answer, her face said it all. "I can't believe she would help you do this. I can't believe she would keep something like this from me! I swear, I'm gonna just... Dammit!" He started pacing around the apartment.

"Baby, calm down. She just thought she was helping me, you know girl bonding?"

Booth decided he would deal with Bones later, when he'd had a little time to calm down. In the meantime, he had to make sure Hannah stayed safe. "Are you going to the office today?" She nodded. "Okay, I'm going to drop you off. Then I'm gong to talk to Caroline Julian, make sure everything is proceeding smoothly with the case. If there's a problem, I want you to agree to request the protective detail." Hannah reluctantly agreed and they set off.

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Booth knocked on Caroline's door. She looked up expectantly. "Ahh, cherie, I was wondering when I'd see you." She motioned him in. He sat stiffly. "Before you say anything, I didn't know about any of this mess until last night."

Booth nodded. "What's the status? Hannah told me your office was serving the warrants overnight."

"Yes, well." Caroline looked uncomfortable. Booth immediately went on alert. "Some of them got tipped off. We've got four of them in the wind. But there's another problem, cherie."

"What? You can't make the case?" Booth asked tersely. Arresting the suspects wouldn't protect Hannah if they were just turned right back onto the street.

"No, your girl did good. She's got solid evidence, turned over copies of everything, even got her hands on some falsified medical reports. But the ADA that took the information may have jumped the gun. I think we're missing a couple of links in this chain."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I think there's someone more powerful behind all these guys pulling the strings. And I don't think Hannah knows who it is."

Booth swallowed, "But he's going to think she does." Caroline nodded. "I need you to assign a protective detail to her."

"Of course. I'll get on it right away."

Booth headed back to his office, his mind racing. There were so many ways this whole thing could blow up in their faces. It took him a minute to realize that his cell phone was ringing.

"Booth," he identified himself.

"Booth, it's Angela. Is Brennan with you?"

Booth rolled his eyes, as he sat down and turned on his computer. "Angela, you know that she's not here. She's not even speaking to me. Wait, she's not at the Jeffersonian?"

"No."

He looked at his watch. "Well, it's just 9:30. She's not that late."

"For a normal person maybe. For Brennan, this is like two hours late. And she's not answering either her cell or her landline."

"Did you check Limbo?"

"Of course I did! I've looked everywhere. Booth, will you just go to her apartment and look around?"

"Angela, I've got a lot on my plate right now. I can't drop everything just because she decided to sleep in."

Angela sniffed. "Booth, you know how thrown she was by the Eames case." He grunted, not wanting to think about that conversation again right now. "She told me afterward that she was scared that she would just disappear and none of us would notice. I promised her that wouldn't happen. Please, please, do this for me."

"Why me, Ange?"

"Because if something did happen, you should be the first one there. You know me, I'd walk all over the evidence." Booth almost laughed at the image, except that he could hear the suppressed tears in her voice.

Booth figured he could swing by Bones' apartment and then check on Hannah at work. "Okay, Ange. There's not going to be any evidence to protect, but I'll do it. I'll be over there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you."

Booth called Bones several times on his way over, but she never picked up. He parked in the garage and saw that her car was gone. He knew Angela was right and that Bones needed to know that they cared enough to make sure she was okay, but he still resented the time. When he got to her apartment, he pounded on her door. No answer. Using the key she had given him 'only for absolute emergencies' he let himself in. Looking around he saw no signs of struggle or anything amiss. The bed was made. The paper lay unread on the sideboard; he unfolded it and saw that it was that morning's paper. So, she had been here that morning.

His last stop was the lobby to see if she had had any visitors. Maybe an old friend had dropped by and she went somewhere with them. Approaching the doorman, he flashed his badge. "I'm looking for Dr. Temperance Brennan. Has she had any visitors this morning?"

"No, sir," replied the doorman. "She was alone when she left this morning."

"How do you know?"

"Well, sir, she walked right past me."

Booth looked puzzled. "She went out the front door?" The doorman nodded. "What time was this?"

He thought for a minute, then answered, "Around 6:30, I think."

Booth nodded and then headed to the front door. Stepping outside, he looked up and down the block, noticing her car at the far end. He sprinted toward it, only to find it locked and the hood cool to the touch. He pulled out his phone and dialed. A worried feeling had begun to creep through his consciousness.

"Max," he said as soon as Bones' father answered. "Is Bones with you?"

"No, she was here yesterday for a while, but she went home last night. Why? Is there a problem?"

"I don't know. No one seems to know where she is."

"That's not like Temperance at all. Booth, you've got to find her."

"Yeah, I know Max. I will," he replied absently as his eyes searched up and down the block looking for any indication of where she might have gone. Then he saw it, a glint about halfway between him and her building. "Max, call Russ and make sure he hasn't heard from her. I've got to go." He hung up even though Max was still frantically talking from the other end.

He walked slowly down the block, then stopped cold. There was her dolphin ring, and next to it was a small dark stain on the sidewalk. He stepped back and opened his phone again, calling Cam, calling Caroline, Hacker, anyone and everyone he could think of.

* * *

Half an hour later, the entire sidewalk was roped off as crime scene techs walked the length looking for more blood drops. Cam and Booth were standing at the site where she had been grabbed. Small drops led to the edge of the curb, but stopped.

"She got into a car," he said numbly. "Cam, start calling hospitals. Maybe she hurt herself and some good Samaritan offered her a ride to the hospital." He thought it unlikely, but was unwilling to imagine the other possibility. Cam nodded and walked away, already dialing her phone.

He grabbed another tech as they walked by. "I want all footage from any security camera on this block. There's a whole row of store fronts opposite us. They must have something we can use."

Suddenly, there was a shout from the end of the block. A tech came around the corner holding two evidence bags. Booth ran down to see what they had found. One bag held a travel mug with the Jeffersonian emblem on it, the other her purse. The tech was explaining, "We found these in a trash can halfway down the block. Plenty of cash and looks like all the credit cards are still in there. I don't think robbery was the motive."

"Don't think!" yelled Booth. "That's not your job. Just find the evidence."

He hurried over to Cam and showed her the purse, mouthing "No ID." She interjected whoever she was listening to, "Yes, it may be a Jane Doe, if she comes in unconscious. We have her ID here on the scene."

Cam hung up the phone and regretfully turned to Booth. "No one matching her description has been admitted this morning. Let's get back to the Jeffersonian, see how Hodgins is doing with particulate analysis. Angela should have the tapes now too, maybe she can find something."

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It was not a long ride as far as Brennan could tell. Then again, she was drifting in and out of consciousness, so her grasp of time was not as concrete as she would have liked. Eventually, she felt the vehicle begin to slow down. Slowly, painfully, she maneuvered herself so that her feet were facing the back of the car. She heard the car doors open and shut and waited.

The trunk lock clicked and as soon as it was lifted, she struck out with her legs, a grunt telling her she had made contact. Before she could scramble out of the trunk, another pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her out. She kicked again, finding someone's shin and pushed herself up in a blinding flash of pain. She was on her feet and running, each step and breath a new experience in pain, but suddenly there was a fence ahead. There was no way she was going to be able to climb it. Already her head was spinning from lack of oxygen. She heard footsteps behind and whirled to face them just as she heard the second shot.

She lay on the ground, gasping for breath, new agony flaring in her abdomen. She heard someone walking toward her, but then, a little farther away the crackle of a two-way radio. Another voice, father than the footsteps, yelled, "Get back here. We're supposed to be on the other side of town!"

She lay still, waiting to see what the shooter would do. Then she heard the footsteps fading, a car door slam, and a car pull away. She tried to push herself to a sitting position to take stock of her surroundings, but the pain was incapacitating. Suddenly, she heard movement near her. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw a face, dark with dirt and smelling vaguely of alcohol.

"Lady? Lady, you okay? That wasn't right, what they did. You okay, lady?"

Taking shallow breaths, she whispered, "Please help me. Ambulance. No police."

The face looked around. "Okay, lady. I think there's a phone over there that's not broken. I'll go call for you. You stay here, okay?"

Inwardly, Brennan laughed, every breath stabbing through her midsection. There was no choice but to stay here. To try to distract herself from the pain, she started to catalogue her injuries. She thought she was moving her fingers and toes, so her central nervous system was probably okay. She was pretty sure that the first shot had collapsed a lung, prompting the chest pain and shortness of breath. The shot to the abdomen was worrisome, with its increased chance of infection. No wonder her assailants had felt comfortable leaving her. If she didn't receive medical attention soon, death was certain.

She wanted Booth, she wanted to feel his arms holding her, to hear his voice as he assured her everything would be okay. She reprimanded herself for her weakness. The shock was encroaching on her mind now. She had never thought she would be afraid of death. It was just the natural (or in this case, unnatural) cessation of life. But in this moment, she wished she had Booth's faith, she wished she could believe that this wasn't all there was. She felt so cold. She heard her new friend come back and was dimly aware that she was holding her hand. See, you don't have to die alone, Tempe, she told herself. She just wished she could see his eyes one more time. Sirens, she could hear sirens. Then she heard nothing.


	6. Truth and Consequences

The atmosphere at the lab was tense when Booth and Cam arrived. Angela ran up to them, tears on her face, and threw her arms around Booth. "You're going to find her, right?" she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

At a loss as to what to say, he just put his arms around her. He nodded to Hodgins who walked up behind his wife. Hodgins looked at the fatigue and fear in Booth's eyes, and gently placed a hand on Angela's shoulder, drawing her back. She immediately leaned into him, as if she didn't want to be without physical contact for even a second.

Cam asked for an update.

Hodgins reluctantly answered, "We don't have much. The blood type matches Dr. Brennan's, but we've got to wait for the DNA match. Meanwhile, I've looked over all the debris your guys swept off the sidewalk and nothing stands out. It's all standard for the area, from all over the city. Angela's been looking at the copies of the security videos."

She looked up on hearing her name, wiping her face. "So far, I haven't been able to get anything that will help us. We can," she took a deep breath. "There's a shooter, but we can't see his face. Then a car pulls up, a second man helps the first put her in the trunk and they pull away turning at the end of the block. Booth, why did they do this? What's going on?"

"I want to see the video," Booth said shortly. He needed to see her, to see for himself.

"Seeley," Cam said in a warning voice. "You don't need to see that. Let's just go sit down for a minute."

"Cam, I can't just sit! She's out there somewhere, and we don't have a damn clue where she is or if she's even still alive." He strode away but couldn't think of where to go and began pacing back and forth. The others looked at each other, feeling helpless.

Booth's phone rang and he answered it instantly, feeling a strange sense of disappointment when he heard Hannah's voice.

"Seeley, seeing as your protector goons are here, I assume that everything did not go smoothly. I kind of thought you might be dropping by to let me know what exactly is going on."

"Hannah, now's not a good time."

She heard the tension in his voice. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Bones was abducted this morning."

Hannah gasped, suddenly frozen. "When?" she whispered.

"Early morning, 6:30 or 7:00."

"Oh god." Panic coursed through her. "Seeley, I need to talk to you."

"Hannah, not right now." Booth rubbed his neck. "I've got to stay here, if something comes up..." He didn't really know why he was reluctant to leave the lab. He just felt closer to her here; he didn't want to lose that connection.

"Seeley, it's important." He heard a strained note in her voice. "It's about Temperance."

"What? You know something?"

She stammered. "I, I don't know. Maybe, but I need to tell you in person. Please, come over here."

Booth closed his phone, looking at it mystified. Cam looked at him. "Booth, what's going on?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Hannah says she needs to talk to me."

"You should go. Talk to her, hug her, let her comfort you. We'll call you if anything comes up. Angela is working on different angles and reflective surfaces, seeing if we can get the license plate on the car. We've got this. Go ahead." Booth looked around, stunned that he hadn't noticed Angela and Hodgins leave the area. His head was not in the game. Maybe Cam was right, a brief break to refresh his thinking could help.

He nodded. "Call me."

"We will."

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Booth showed his badge as he passed the two men standing guard outside Hannah's office. Entering, he saw her typing furiously at her keyboard. He sat, legs jiggling, as she finished her thought. Finally, she looked up, startled at how tense and drawn he looked.

"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah, they shot her, stuffed her in the trunk of a car, and we don't have a clue what happened next. So, yeah, it's bad."

"Oh god, Seeley. I have to tell you something and... I don't know how you're going to take it."

"Just tell me already," he snapped. He didn't have time for these games and this was not making him feel any better.

She winced. "Okay, when I told you that Temperance knew I was working on the story, I may have left out a little bit."

"Like what?"

"She was actually helping me, getting some information. And then she went on an interview with me. Well, it was supposed to be an interview, but it turned out to be more like an ambush. We were surrounded by a group of men, who I'm pretty sure had killed my informant."

Booth froze. "When was this?"

"A week ago yesterday."

Booth thought about the bruise he had seen on Bones' face last Monday. "They hit her?" Hannah nodded. Booth found himself on hit feet, uncertain what to do now. Hannah's office was too small and cluttered for pacing. "And they threatened you?" he continued.

"No. Yes. I mean, they threatened me that they would... hurt her if I pursued the story."

"And you went ahead anyway?" Booth's fists were balled at his side, as he tried desperately to remember that he didn't hit women.

"Come on, Seeley, you always tell me how capable she is and how she can take care of herself! I mean, she didn't seemed fazed at all when they hit her."

"I knew it, I knew there was more to it than she was telling me." He wondered why she hadn't told him the truth. Of course, he hadn't really given her a lot of reasons to feel like she could confide in him. Coming back to the current events, he asked, "Did you tell her the story was coming out today?"

Hannah looked nervous. "No."

"Did you tell her the story was coming out soon?"

"No. She kind of probably thought that I wasn't pursuing it."

"Why would she think that?" Hannah was taken aback by how cold Booth's voice was becoming.

"Well, when I last talked to her I indicated that I was at a dead end." Her voice took on an excited tone. "But then I got this brainstorm! I mean, you wouldn't believe how I finally,"

Booth slammed his fists down on her desk, startling her to silence and dislodging several notebooks which fell to the floor. "I don't care. How the hell do you think I give a damn about your story when Bones is out there maybe," he swallowed harshly. He wouldn't say the word.

"So," he continued, "you knew she would be in danger, you gave her no heads up, and now you're sitting here trying to impress me with your journalistic skills?"

"Seeley, you're making it sound worse than it is. I honestly had no idea she would be in danger. I mean, what would the point be once the story is already published?"

He looked at her. She was honestly bewildered. "The point is that your journalistic prowess is not quite as wonderful as you'd like to believe. Caroline is convinced that you didn't identify everyone involved, including whoever's at the top. So, the point is to warn you off of publishing part 2 of the story."

Hannah looked scared. "There is no part 2. That was everything I have."

"They don't know that! I just don't understand how you could be so selfish. Don't you care about Bones at all? She helped you and you sent her out there like a sacrificial lamb."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"I think that's pretty accurate. You sacrificed her for your career." Booth was beginning to feel sick. How could all of this have been going on around him for weeks and he hadn't seen any of it?

"But what about what you're always telling me about how she can take care of herself?"

"If she knows something's coming, yeah. But if she's not expecting it... Dammit Hannah, stop putting this on her! You should have told her! You should have told me!"

"Seeley you're not the only one upset here. I liked her too."

Booth was enraged. "Don't ever use the past tense in regards to her," he hissed.

Hannah looked closely at him. Then she smiled softly. "Now I get it," she said.

"What?" he bit back.

"You know, this morning you were mad, you were concerned, maybe even a little worried. Now look at you. You are so wound up, I'm surprised you can move. Because it's her. Because you still love her."

"Don't make this about me. This is about you and what you did. You know, you have so many qualities similar to her: your passion and sense of adventure, your intelligence. But I never thought I'd hear myself say that she has more heart than you."

"What do you mean?"

"Why'd she go with you on that interview?"

"She thought it was dangerous. She wanted me to take you and when I refused, she insisted on coming with me."

He smiled grimly. "Yeah, that sounds about right. So, she put herself in a dangerous situation to keep you safe. And you couldn't be bothered to pick up a phone to tell her she might not be." Hannah was silent. "I don't know when I'll be back to the apartment, probably not till after we find Bones. But I want you gone I get there." He turned and stalked out, disgusted with Hannah and with himself.

Hannah yelled behind him, "Seeley, wait. Can't we talk about this?"

He just kept walking.

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Dr. Nick Halden walked through the halls at George Washington University Hospital on his way to meet a colleague for lunch. He'd received a last minute text that his friend, Dr. Edgar Tannenbaum, was observing an emergency surgery and to meet him near the surgical suites.

Spying his friend observing the surgery, Nick walked up, only glancing in at the surgery in progress. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've only got a few minutes. Cafeteria okay?"

"You sure they can spare you?"

Tannenbaum nodded. "Yeah, this will be going on for a while. My students should be meeting me here in about 45 minutes." He shrugged and added, "Assuming she lasts that long. You may be seeing Jane Doe pretty soon actually."

Nick looked through the window again. Although he dealt with death all day long, it was always hard to see someone facing it. He moved closer to the window. "Oh my god. Wait, you said this is a Jane Doe?"

"Yeah," his friend confirmed. "She came in this morning, massive trauma from gunshots. They found her in a druggie/homeless area. Judging by her clothes, she's not homeless. Probably some high-society housewife looking for a thrill, drug-deal gone bad," he added in a bored voice.

"Edgar, that's Temperance Brennan. At least, I'm pretty sure it is." His friend looked blankly at him. "Temperance Brennan, the best-selling author, world-renowned scientist from the Jeffersonian." He thought for a minute. "Okay, I'm going to try to get a hold of someone she works with, see if they can come make a positive ID or get her family here or something. You probably want to make a note on her admission file."

"She probably doesn't have an admit file yet. They rushed her in so fast. Sometimes, we just wait until afterward."

"Fine, whatever. I'll see you in the cafeteria in 10 minutes."

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Booth arrived back at the Jeffersonian, more agitated than when he had left. Before Cam could question him about what had happened with Hannah, an intern came to let her know she had a phone call.

He looked at Angela. "Any luck?" he asked dully.

She shook her head, numb and frightened. Booth wished he had something he could tell them all to raise their spirits, but the more time that passed, the more certain he was that they wouldn't find her in time. He had called Hacker and Caroline on his way back, passing on the information that this was likely related to Hannah's article. But it felt futile.

All of a sudden the atmosphere in the room changed as Cam came hurrying in. "We've found her, we think." Everyone looked up, waiting for the next sentence. "She's in surgery at GWU. They got a tentative ID off the director of the DC Morgue, who just happened to be there. Let's go."

They all followed Cam out, daring to hope for the first time in hours.

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The team trooped into the surgical waiting room. A nurse was waiting to meet them there. She looked at the four of them. "I think we'll only need one of you to come back and identify the patient."

Booth stepped forward, but Cam put her hand on his arm. "I'll go," she said.

"No, Cam. I want to go. I need to see her." His voice was almost pleading.

"Seeley, you don't need to see her like this. I can go back, make sure it's her, and find out her status." She looked him in the eye. "You can see her after the surgery."

He wanted to fight. Bones had been there for his surgery. He should be there for her now. But Cam was right. He wasn't strong enough to handle seeing his Bones laying there, surgeons impersonally cutting and sewing. He nodded to Cam and sat down heavily in a chair.

Hodgins helped Angela to a chair. "Hey did anyone call Sweets? I mean, does he know about any of this?" No one answered. Hodgins shrugged and said, "I'll do it." He pulled out his cell and left a message when he got Sweets' voice mail.

After about ten minutes Cam returned, looking grave. She sat down near everyone. "It's her." Angela released the breath she had been holding. Booth wouldn't relax, Cam's expression telling him they were not in the clear. Cam took a deep breath, calling on her medical training to distance herself from the facts she was reporting. "Multiple GSW, resulting in a collapsed lung and internal bleeding."

Angela whispered, "GSW?"

"Gun shot wounds." Angela nodded, slowly.

"The surgery will take a few more hours at least. We might as well make ourselves comfortable."

"Will she make it?" Booth's voice was harsh as he tried to control the emotion flooding him at the images that had been running through his mind since they entered the hospital.

"It's promising that she's made it this far, but the surgery is only the first hurdle. The belly wound has increased chance of infection that will have to be monitored closely for a few days." She hesitated. Booth stared at her.

"With injuries of this type... Massive internal bleeding resulting in lower blood pressure, coupled with lower oxygenation of the blood due to the collapsed lung, can result in oxygen deprivation in the brain."

"Oh god." Angela buried her head into Hodgins' shoulder.

They sat without talking for a while. Sweets showed up and Hodgins brought him up to speed. Sweets looked around. Angela was the most visibly upset. Hodgins was being strong for his wife and would probably deal with his fear and grief later. Cam, a doctor by training and used to dealing with death, was maintaining a more professional facade, although Sweets could see the toll it was taking on her. But Booth was just sitting there like a statue, a man caught in the sharp claws of grief.

The psychologist wandered over to Booth and sat down next to him. "Agent Booth?" Booth looked up at him after a moment, his eyes deep pools of pain. "Perhaps you'd like to call Hannah. I understand you must be worried about her too. And it may help you to deal with this better if you have someone to lean on."

It took a minute for Sweets' words to make sense to Booth. Then he laughed, a harsh, derisive sound in the quiet room. Everyone looked over at him.

"No, I don't want to call Hannah," he said. Sweets looked slightly alarmed at the nearly maniacal light in his friend's eyes. "She's the reason Bones is in there." Booth suddenly stood up and started moving randomly around the room. Sweets looked to the others for clarification only to see that they were as mystified as he was.

Booth stopped and looked at them. "All these weird things she's been doing the past couple of weeks, the days off, the bruises, it's all because Hannah pulled her into that damn investigation! They warned Hannah not to pursue it, that Bones would get hurt if she did." He shrugged. "Well, you only have to look at today's front page to see what choice she made."

Turning around, he punched the wall, leaving a hole. "And I had no clue." He looked at their shocked faces, the faces of Bones' friends who had tried so hard to help her, while he had stood by and let her get sucked into this life-or-death game. "I can't be here right now."

They watched him go, still processing what he had told them.

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Booth walked up and down the hospital halls for almost half an hour, haunted by images of what might have happened to Bones. He couldn't stop imagining her on the ground, bleeding, alone. Alone, she should never have been alone. What had she been thinking, had she wanted him there? Was she scared? It killed him to think of her helpless, alone, and scared. He was supposed to be there for her, to hold her when she got scared. How long had it been since he'd even touched her hand?

Eventually, he found himself at the hospital chapel. Wearily, he walked inside, longing for solace. Yet, for the first time he could remember, he felt nothing. As he took a seat, he ran his hands over his jacket, noticing an item in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that he still had her ring. It really should have been bagged as evidence. He must have just put in it his pocket while waiting for everyone else to get there. He closed his fist tightly around the ring, feeling its ridges dig into his palm.

Sitting there, feeling empty and tired, he remembered Bones asking him once, it seemed forever ago now, what happened when a case shook his faith. He had told her it always came back, eventually. Looking around the cold, dim room, he realized that this was it. If Bones didn't make it, neither would his faith. There was no coming back from this.

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Hannah tentatively stepped into the waiting room, unsure of what reception she would receive. Four pairs of eyes looked up at her.

"I, um, I just wanted to see how Temperance was doing. It's hitting the news now, you know, that's she here." Hannah didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Booth wasn't here.

Angela pushed herself to a standing position. Moving to stand in front of the blonde, she said, "Nice of you to care now. But it might have been a little more useful a week ago."

Hannah looked crestfallen. "Angela, you have to believe I never wanted this to happen."

"Maybe not, but at least you'll get a good story out of it, huh?" Angela retorted.

"I can't believe you'd say that!" She looked around, trying to see a friendly face. Even Sweets looked hard and shuttered. Hannah shrugged. "Okay, I just wanted... oh forget it."

"We will." Angela smiled as she plucked Brennan's sunglasses off of Hannah's head. "But I won't forget these. It's customary to bring a gift when you visit someone in the hospital."

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Brennan could think of no logical reason that she should be able to observe herself lying on an operating table during surgery. She deduced that it must be an hallucination produced by her brain to deal with the trauma it was enduring. Searching her mind, she remembered her last thoughts before losing consciousness: a panicked desire to see Booth one last time. She realized that that the panic was no longer present. In fact, she felt very comfortable and content. She felt a hand brush across her hair, settling on her back. Turning to the source of the movement, her mouth opened in surprise. "Mom?"

Lost in feelings of warmth, love, and acceptance, she was only vaguely aware of the urgent voices in the background, rising above a long, steady tone.


	7. Long Night

Booth lost track of how long he had been sitting in the chapel, lost in his fears and imaginings. That cold, empty feeling had stayed with him and all he could do was to hold on to her ring and hope. He heard the door open behind him and waited. Angela sat quietly down beside him. She put her hand on his arm.

"The surgeon's coming out to talk to us," she said quietly. "I think you should be there."

It was Booth's sense of duty, more than anything else, that propelled him out of his seat and down the hallways behind Angela. He knew that if the news was bad, Bones would want him to be there for her team, for their team. He felt numb. He knew that he must be putting one foot in front of the other based on the fact that the walls were moving past him, but it seemed to be happening independent of his volition.

He was startled to see that Max had joined them in the waiting room when Angela led him in. He searched his brain for something to say to him, but couldn't form words. Max looked like he had aged twenty years since Booth had last seen him. Before Booth could push past his verbal block, they were joined by the surgeon. All eyes turned to him in anticipation.

"The surgery was successful. We believe we identified all sources of internal bleeding and we were able to successfully treat the pneumothorax. She is currently in Recovery and will be moved from there to the ICU when the anesthetic wears off." Everyone looked at each other with smiles. Angela and Hodgins shared a huge hug.

The surgeon cleared his throat. "There was an incident during the surgery." Everyone stopped celebrating. "The patient suffered cardiac arrest for a period of about 42 seconds."

Booth felt as if his own heart had stopped. "That means... Are you saying she was dead?" he asked.

"Technically," began the surgeon, but Cam cut him off.

"Seeley, it's not unusual for that to occur in a surgery of this type. The important thing is that they got her heart started again and were able to successfully complete the surgery."

Booth shook his head. No amount of calm, soothing tones would make it sound okay that Bones had been _dead_ , technical or not. Cam nodded at the surgeon to move on. "What's the prognosis?"

"Well, now we wait and see what happens when the anesthesia wears off. She is breathing on her own which is a good sign. We'll keep her in ICU and on IV antibiotics until we are sure that she is not developing an infection. If she doesn't wake up from the anesthesia in the next couple of hours, we'll take her for an MRI to test for brain impairment." Booth winced at the blunt characterization, although he felt sure that Bones would have appreciated it. "Assuming everything occurs in an optimal fashion, she should be moved out of ICU in no more than 48 hours and be home in less than a week."

The surgeon nodded to them all, accepted handshakes from Max and Hodgins, and left. Cam suggested, "Maybe we should go grab something to eat. It's going to be a few hours before we can even think of seeing her." Everyone made noises of agreement, but then wound their way back to the seats they had been occupying before. Cam made a face, then joined them.

It wasn't long before an anxious Andrew Hacker popped in. "How's everything going? Any news?" he asked.

Cam brought him up to date as Booth tried to tamp down his emotions and resume a professional persona. He stood up and walked toward his boss.

"I, uh, I'm sorry I haven't been out in the field. Now that..."

Hacker cut him off. "Agent Booth, your place is here right now." He saw Booth's confusion. "You're not investigating this case," he clarified.

"What the hell do you mean, Andrew?" Booth retorted. "Of course I'm investigating this! It's Bones."

"And that's exactly why you're off the case. You're too close."

"Yes, I'm close. That's why I should be working it. I know how important it is."

"We both care about Temperance, Agent Booth. And all of our agents consider every case to be important. But your relationship with her is exactly why you can't work this case. Any evidence you collect would be attacked by the defense as suspect due to your emotional involvement."

"This is bullshit!" Booth wanted to be out there doing something, trying to make it better for Bones.

Hacker took a deep breath. Booth's unresolved feelings for his partner were well-known and the assistant director was trying to keep this in mind while dealing with his massive insubordination. He knew Temperance would never let him hear the end of it if he dressed Booth down right now.

"Booth, the best use of your time right now is to be here for Temperance. She's going to need you." Hacker considered for a moment. "I will include you on the distribution list for daily updates."

Booth's jaw tensed, but he sensed that he had pushed about as far as he could for now. He nodded curtly.

Hacker made his goodbyes and left, leaving behind two agents who would be providing protection for Brennan. It was long past dinner time and Sweets offered to go get some food from the cafeteria for everyone. Booth just pushed his sandwich around its plate, unable to settle his stomach enough to eat. It felt wrong to just be sitting here when somewhere out there were the people who had tried to kill Bones, having dinner, having a drink, living their lives.

Eventually, a nurse came by to let them know that Bones had been moved to ICU, although she hadn't woken up yet. After much arguing and pleading, she agreed to let Booth come and sit with Bones. If he couldn't be out there making this better for her, at least he could be with her. He sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair that he had pulled up next to her bed. Each sound of the machine monitoring her vital signs was like a stab to his heart, reminding him that she hadn't woken up. It was only an hour or two past the time the anesthesiologist had estimated she should wake, the doctor assured them that they were not worried yet. But still, she was so still, so pale. Booth gently held her hand as he watched her, waiting for any sign of life.

It felt like forever, but it wasn't actually that long before she stirred. At first, Booth didn't believe his eyes, but he felt her fingers moving underneath his, then saw her head moving slowly side to side as she struggled against the pain and fatigue.

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Pain, she felt pain. Her chest hurt, breathing hurt, her abdomen hurt. Reaching out with her senses, she realized one thing didn't hurt: her hand. It was warm and comfortable. She slowly moved her head, assuring herself that she seemed to be in one piece and then opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Booth's drawn face looking intently at her. Past him, she was dimly aware of various machines. She made an educated guess that she was in a hospital. Licking her dry lips, she was grateful when he lifted a small cup of water to her mouth. Feeling a bit more like talking, she whispered, "What am I doing here?"

Booth looked a little taken aback. He pressed the nurses' call button as he answered, "You just had surgery."

Brennan searched her memory, but couldn't reconcile a surgery to her memories. "Why?" she asked.

Booth, already pale from worry and lack of sleep, felt even more blood leave his face. "What do you remember?" he asked.

Before Brennan could answer, a nurse bustled in. She took one look at her patient and exclaimed delightedly, "You're awake! I'll let the doctor know. Is there anything I can get you right now?"

Brennan shook her head slightly, the pain and fog still rattling around her skull inhibiting her movement. The nurse hurried away again. Brennan looked back at Booth, who was watching her worriedly.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Pretty awful. What kind of surgery was it? I seem to feel bandages all around my torso."

Booth was looking around. Where was that doctor? He did not want to be the one to tell Brennan what had happened. And why the hell couldn't she remember?

"Booth, please answer me." She was beginning to feel slightly panicked. He was avoiding her question. "What happened? Why won't you tell me?"

He tried to calm down. She needed him to be strong right now. "Okay, why don't you tell me the last thing you remember? I'll try to fill in the blanks as best I can."

Brennan racked her brain. "My dad," she finally offered. "I went to see my dad. I remember coming home, working on my novel, going to bed." She looked at him, lost. "What day is this?"

Booth looked at his watch. "It's after midnight, so I guess it's Tuesday."

Shaking, she asked, "Is it the same week?" How much of her memory had she lost?

Booth looked at her, surprised at the fear in her eyes. "Yeah," he answered simply, wishing he had something comforting to say. They both started when the doctor came through the door and grabbed her chart. She reviewed it for a moment before she said anything.

"Well, Ms. Brennan, it is great to see you awake!" she said as she moved to the head of the bed and began shining a pen light in Brennan's eyes.

"Dr. Brennan," replied both Booth and Brennan simultaneously.

The doctor looked amused. "Sorry, Dr. Brennan. Okay, you obviously know your name. Can you tell me what year it is?"

"2011," Brennan responded, only a little hesitantly.

"Good," the doctor said absentmindedly as she grabbed Brennan's hand. "Squeeze my hand please." Brennan complied. The doctor moved to the foot of the bed and lifted the blanket off her feet. "Let's see you move your toes." She did.

The doctor moved up the other side of the bed to test Brennan's right hand and Booth was forced to relinquish his hold. It felt cold without his hand covering hers. Brennan wished the doctor would just hurry up and go away so Booth could tell her what the hell was going on. She squeezed the doctor's hand quickly without even being asked.

"Okay," the doctor responded as she moved back to make some notes on the chart. Brennan waited, but Booth didn't return to his place next to her bed. "What's 5 times 5?"

Brennan looked at the doctor. "It's twenty-five. Are you sure you're a doctor? Shouldn't you be able to do simple math?"

The doctor laughed. "Yes. I'm just making sure you can. Well, it looks like everything is working just fine. Your surgeon will be sometime in the morning to check on your sutures and then we'll probably be able to move you to a regular room, where you can have all-night visitors," she said, pointedly looking at Booth, who stared back, unashamed.

Seeing that Brennan wasn't going to say anything to the doctor, Booth felt compelled to. "Not everything is fine. She can't remember yesterday at all."

The doctor stopped and looked at the chart again. "Well, I'm not too concerned about that. It's probably a form of dissociative amnesia due to the traumatic nature of the events. The memories may or may not return. Her brain function appears normal in others facets. Unless you find that there are any other gaps in your memory, I think that's just the way your brain is dealing with things." She put the chart down and left.

Brennan head whipped around so that she could stare at Booth. "What things? What the hell happened to me?"

Now it was Booth's turn to be panicked. _Why the hell didn't the damn doctor tell her? Why me?_ he thought, anxiously. _Dissociative amnesia? That sounds like Sweets' territory._ And just like that, he saw his way out.

"You know what, the others are out in the waiting room. I'm going to go let them now you're awake. They're gonna want to come in and see for themselves." He hurried out of the room before she could protest.

She closed her eyes, trying to take a deep breath, hindered by the pain in her chest. She thought about trying to grab her chart, but worried that movement might aggravate her injuries. She searched her memory again and again but just found a blank from the time she had gone to sleep Sunday night till waking up to see his face.

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Booth found himself practically running to the waiting room. His excuse that everyone else should know she woke up was valid, but he recognized it as simply an excuse. He really wanted to get Sweets or Angela to go in there and tell her what happened. How could he tell her that she was shot because of him? Because he had brought Hannah into her life, because he had cut her out of his life, because he couldn't see what was happening right under his nose. He burst into the waiting room, causing the two people left in there to look up in alarm.

He looked around seeing only Max and Sweets. Max stood up, his anxiety rising at the look on Booth's face.

"She's awake," Booth announced. "Where is everybody?"

Max took a deep breath and sat down as relief flooded through him, making his legs more than a little shaky. Sweets smiled as he answered Booth, "Cam went home to make sure Michelle wasn't getting into any trouble overnight and Hodgins convinced Angela to go home about half an hour ago. She wasn't getting any rest here and he is the overprotective father-to-be. We'd better call them though."

Max asked, "How is she doing?"

"Great, mostly, given the circumstances," Booth answered. He looked at Sweets. "But she doesn't remember yesterday at all, Sweets. The doctor said something about dissociative amnesia?"

Sweets nodded. "I can see that. Dissociative amnesia occurs when an event is so traumatic that the brain represses it to protect the psyche of the person experiencing it. Basically we believe that the memory is formed and does exist in long-term memory, but that the brain has cut off access to it. I would characterize what we surmise about Dr. Brennan's experiences yesterday to have been sufficiently traumatic to cause such a phenomenon."

"Well, you gotta go tell her what happened, then," Booth ordered the younger man.

"Me? No, I don't think that's advisable. She should hear from someone she's closer to. I would think you or Angela, but since Angela's not here..."

Max interrupted. "I'm going to go stick my head in and say good-night. Booth, just let me know when you're ready to go back in." He left the room, although something in his eyes told Booth they had unfinished business.

At the moment, he had a different priority however. "Sweets, I can't be the one to tell her."

"You feel guilty?" Booth winced. The kid was pretty damn astute sometimes. "There's no need for you to feel guilty, Agent Booth. You did not knowingly put her in danger, and when you knew that she was in trouble, you did everything you could to help her."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't make me _feel_ any better, does it?"

"Feelings are difficult things. However, I can only believe that if the experience of being shot and abducted was so traumatic that she has blocked it out, then she needs to hear about it from someone who makes her feel safe."

Booth shook his head. "I'm not sure I'm that person anymore."

Sweets usually genial face hardened a bit, taking Booth by surprise. "Then you need to become that person again. You need to do it for her, Booth." Booth nodded. He owed her that much, and honestly much, much more. "Go on back. I'll call Hodgins and Cam then I'm heading home. Please give Dr. Brennan my best."

Booth took a deep breath and headed back down the hallway to the ICU.

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Max walked into his daughter's room in the ICU to find her lost in thought, frustration written across her face. He took a deep breath, thanking his lucky stars that she was still alive; he knew that fate didn't owe him any favors. He cleared his throat and she looked up.

"Dad," she said with a tired smile.

"Ahh, Tempe." He sat in the chair Booth had vacated. "It is so good to see you. You had us pretty scared." He saw the questioning look on her face and shook his head. "I'm going to let Booth explain it all to you. He knows more than I do anyway. I just wanted to come see for myself that you are all right." Standing, he kissed her on the forehead.

She protested, "Dad, don't go."

Max allowed himself to feel proud of how far their relationship had come that she would utter those words, that he could once again provide some measure of comfort to his little girl. "I'm an old man, Tempe. I need my rest. And so do you. Booth will be back in a few minutes. And I'll come back to see you tomorrow. I love you, sweetie."

Brennan sank back again with a sigh, almost dozing off before she heard footsteps again. A sudden dread pierced through her and her eyes flew open. It took a second for her to recognize the hospital room and Booth standing in the doorway, looking tense.

He stepped through. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head. "I wasn't really sleeping. I want answers, Booth. I think I have a right to know what happened to me." She stopped when she saw that he was acquiescing. Sitting in the chair, he pulled it right up to the side of her bed. He stared at her face for a long time, wondering how to begin. She was silent, allowing him to take his time. Part of her reasoned that she didn't want to push him, for fear that he might get annoyed and leave without telling her what she wanted to know. Part of her, a part that she didn't want to acknowledge, thought that maybe she just wanted him there for as long as possible, silent or not.

He took a deep breath. "You were abducted from in front of your building this morning. You were shot twice and left for dead. Cam or your doctor can tell you all the medical jargon, but that's what happened." Brennan could hear the tremor in his voice and wondered if he was just tired or if there was another reason.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why was I shot? Who did it?"

"We think it is related to the article you were helping Hannah with." A guilty look flashed across her face. "Hannah told me everything, I think. I know about your trip to see her informant, I know how you got that bruise I saw last week, I know that they threatened you."

"Oh, okay." She wasn't sure what to say: an apology, an explanation of her behavior? But she wasn't even sure why she had behaved that way. "But they threatened me as a deterrent to Hannah, why attack me now? She said she had no more leads."

"Yeah, well, she came up with some," he relied bitterly. "The article was published this morning, Monday morning."

Brennan's eyes widened. "But she didn't tell me," she whispered. Booth shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "The article was out, the damage was done, but they still hurt me?"

"We don't think she got everyone. We think they were trying to send a message not to name the rest of the gang. By attacking you, they thought they could intimidate her. If they had attacked her directly, it would have lent credence to her article and made things even hotter for them." He stopped, it appeared that she wasn't listening anymore. "Bones?"

Her expression was so sad. "I don't understand. Why didn't she warn me that she was publishing it?"

Booth laid his hand over top of hers, anger at Hannah coming in waves mixed with concern for Bones. "I don't know, Bones. She should have."

"She's okay, right? And she's got protection?" Brennan knew it must be costing Booth a lot to sit here at her bedside when his girlfriend was potentially a target.

He nodded dismissively. "She's fine and yes, she has agents with her."

A thought occurred to Brennan. "Why are you here?"

"What? I'm here because... You got shot, Bones." He didn't understand what she was asking.

"Yes. So why aren't you out there finding out who did this? You need to be investigating."

A nurse hurried in and quietly handed Brennan some pills which she obediently swallowed. It was a sign of how distracted she was by their conversation that she didn't even ask what they were for.

He looked at her dismally, feeling like he was letting her down yet again. "I'm not on the case."

"What do you mean? Why aren't you on the case? You're the best. I want the best. Give me the phone, I'm calling Andrew." Her indignation was almost cute.

"No, Bones. He's the one who pulled me off it. And he's right. I'm too emotionally involved. It would give the defense a ready-made exclusion for any evidence I find."

"Oh, because of Hannah? Because she's in danger from them also?"

"Hannah? What? No." Booth pulled back for a minute. Now did not seem to be the right time to start talking about his breakup with Hannah. "Because you're my partner, Bones. We're not allowed to investigate cases involving families or partners."

"Oh, I see." She blinked a couple of times. Her eyelids were feeling very heavy. "Booth, thank you for staying." She yawned. "I know you have to get back, but thank..."

Booth looked at her face, relaxing in sleep. He allowed himself to cup her cheek, just to prove to himself that she was really there, that she was really okay. Then he maneuvered himself into as comfortable a position as he could manage in the damn plastic chair. There was no way he was leaving her side tonight.


	8. Recovery

Hospital chairs were not conducive to sleeping. Neither were the nightmares that plagued Booth every time he managed to find a bit of sleep. Images of Bones, lying broken and bleeding in a deserted lot; scenarios where no one found her in time and she died, alone, waiting for him to come find her. He would start awake, panicked with each one. Then he would look at her, in the dim night lighting, touch her hand or her cheek to feel her warm blood underneath her skin. He would look at the monitors displaying data that he didn't understand to reassure himself that she was alive and here with him.

When the nurse came in to get her patient's morning vitals, she found her awake, staring at her visitor, sleeping fitfully seated in the chair, with his arms pillowing his head on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. She kept her voice low as she greeted her patient.

"Good morning, Dr. Brennan. How are you feeling?" she asked as she went about checking the monitors.

Brennan sighed and shifted a little. "Very uncomfortable." She felt bruised all over, very achy, and her entire torso felt like fire.

The nurse smiled compassionately. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Booth's sleepy voice overrode Brennan's knee-jerk denial. "When she says very uncomfortable, that means she's in pain. She always understates it." He sat up and stretched very carefully. "She needs pain medication."

Brennan replied, exasperated. "Booth, I do _not_ want pain medication. It put me right to sleep last night. I was hoping to have Cam send over some of my open reports so I could get some work done today and I want my head clear."

"You're not working today, Bones," Booth replied, incredulously. She was going to sit there with two bullet holes in her and work?

The nurse excused herself from the bickering couple. "I'll just go see if the doctor will approve a different medication that might not make you as sleepy."

"Booth, I can't just sit here all day doing nothing." During her brief time of wakefulness already this morning, her mind had been constantly trying to break through the darkness that surrounded her injury. She desperately wanted something to take her mind off that futile task.

"You're not 'doing nothing', you're recovering. That's your job right now."

"Why are you even here, Booth?" Brennan abruptly changed tacks, which often succeeded in throwing him off his attack. "You should be home with Hannah. She must be worried. I would imagine that she is considered a target as well."

Booth gave her a look that she couldn't quite read. Ducking his head, he mumbled, "I broke up with her."

"Booth, look at me," Brennan ordered. He looked up, keeping his expression deliberately neutral. "You and Hannah broke up?" At his nod, she asked, "Why?"

He almost laughed at the innocent way she asked the question. She truly didn't know. "Look at you," he said. "This is all happening because of her."

She still looked confused. "You broke up with her because of me?" she asked tentatively. "Booth, that's not..."

He held a hand up to stop her talking. "I didn't break up with her for you, or directly because of you. I just, I saw something in her yesterday, or maybe a lack of something, that I don't think I can live with. And I sure as hell know that I don't want her around people I care about, around my son, or my partner," he finished quietly.

Brennan was quiet, absorbing this. Booth continued, "I'm sorry that this happened to you. I'm sorry I brought her into our lives."

"There is absolutely no reason for you to apologize. You had nothing to do with my getting shot," she said.

Booth nearly rolled his eyes at her over-practicality, responding, "Please don't think about it, just let me apologize and tell me that we're okay."

The nurse reentered the room as Brennan nodded. "Of course we're okay. But only if you go home to shower and get some real rest."

"Okay to the shower and I could really use a change of clothes. Can I bring you back anything?"

"Coffee!" Brennan's eyes lit up at the thought.

The nurse interjected quickly. "No ma'am."

"What? Why not?"

"Your abdominal cavity sustained pretty severe damage. You are on a restricted diet for the time being: no alcohol, no caffeine, no spicy foods. Today, you'll pretty much be enjoying jell-o and chicken broth."

Brennan's eyes widened. "What is the extent of the abdominal injury? What organs were impacted?" Booth looked at his partner, who looked quite shaken. Thoughts of leaving were abandoned as he sat down again and laid his hand over hers, which had balled itself into a fist.

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't have that information."

"I'd like to speak to the surgeon then, as soon as possible."

She nodded. "He's already making rounds. I'll see if he can come in to see you next."

Booth looked at Brennan, who was sitting silently, chewing her lip. She didn't even realize he had taken his place next to her again. As he smoothed his hand over hers, he suddenly remembered, "I have your ring!" She looked at him, puzzled, as he drew the dolphin ring out of his pocket and held it out to her.

She took it from his palm and stared at it. From far away, she seemed to hear the clatter of metal on concrete. Shaking her head, she handed it back to him. "Please keep it for now." At his confused expression, she explained, "I shouldn't wear anything metal in case anything should happen and I need to go for emergency tests, X-rays, MRIs. And I'd rather not leave it laying around here."

Booth nodded and pocketed the ring again. They sat quietly for a few more minutes, Booth still in the dark about Bones' sudden concern, she unwilling to say anything. Finally, the surgeon entered and began reviewing her chart.

"So, Dr. Brennan. I heard that you would like something a little milder in the pain management department? If you honestly are not in excessive pain, I don't think a lower dose would be a problem." He made a note on the chart, then looked at Brennan. "Now, the nurse mentioned that you had a question about your injuries?"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "She mentioned that there was extensive abdominal damage. I was wondering," she hesitated, then finished all in a rush. "Is there any impact to my reproductive abilities?"

Booth was floored. Bones hadn't mentioned wanting to have a baby since his brain surgery. He had assumed that she had moved past the idea, but apparently, he was wrong. Remembering how much she had wanted it, albeit in that infuriatingly unconventional Bones way, he waited almost as anxiously as she did for the answer.

The surgeon smiled, glad to be able to give a positive response to the couple. "No, conceiving and carrying a child should be no more difficult now than before your shooting. As for everything else,"

Brennan held out a slightly shaky hand. "May I just see the chart please?"

"Well, it's not written for a lay person to understand."

Impatiently she responded, "I'm a highly intelligent and educated woman. I can certainly ask if I have any questions regarding the data."

The surgeon handed over her chart and waited while she reviewed it. At first, she just concentrated on maintaining a calm facade; she was almost shaking with relief, although she couldn't understand why. She had no immediate plans to conceive and there were certainly alternatives should that avenue be blocked off. Quickly reviewing the chart, she handed it back to him. "It looks like you performed very competently, Doctor. Thank you."

The surgeon looked at Booth, a little thrown in dealing with this highly unusual patient. Booth sighed and took pity on the doctor. "That's pretty much the highest compliment she pays anyone. You did good, doc." Booth shook the surgeon's hand and said goodbye to the surgeon, who left.

He looked over at Brennan, who was looking much calmer. She looked up at him and smiled. "You're supposed to be going to get some rest. Go! I'll be fine."

Brennan watched him leave, throwing a smile back at her from the door. She had to restrain herself from asking him to stay. Somehow, the fact that she had nearly 24 hours missing from her memory disturbed her less when he was distracting her. She accepted the medicine the nurse brought in, then lay back and tried to stop her mind from turning in circles.

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Booth walked into his apartment and headed straight for the shower. He paused at the bed, thinking longingly of stretching out for just a little while, but he knew if he fell asleep he would be out for hours. He'd talked Bones into not working today; he owed it to her to go keep her company, so she wouldn't be too bored.

He did take some time to luxuriate in the hot shower, allowing the water to pound on his tight neck and back, stress and inconvenient sleeping accommodations combining to put him in danger of another round of muscle spasms. Looking for a new shirt after his shower, he opened the closet and saw that Hannah's clothes were gone. He had completely forgotten, until he saw half the closet empty, that he'd kicked her out of the apartment. He was actually a little amazed that she'd listened to him. Looking around, he was surprised at how little impact her being gone made. Bones is in the hospital and it colors his every thought; his girlfriend moved out and he didn't even notice. He shook his head. Something was off there.

He made his way into the kitchen to make some coffee. He wouldn't drink it in front of Bones as long as she couldn't have any, but there was no way he was getting through this day without at least one cup. He stopped when he saw the previous day's newspaper still on the counter where he had thrown it. Laying next to it was now a handwritten note.

 _Seeley,_

 _I heard that Temperance is doing better. I am honestly sorry for everything that has happened. I hope that maybe we can talk soon, when the crisis mode has settled down._

 _The agents are moving me to a safe house; I'm not allowed to tell you where. So I guess you might call it karma. I'm not allowed to report or submit stories until this is all cleared up._

 _I'll call you when I can._

 _Love,_   
_Hannah_

Booth crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it in the trashcan. How could she equate Bones nearly being killed with being temporarily restricted from reporting? Dumping his coffee in a travel mug, he headed back out the door.

He decided that he would stop by the Jeffersonian to check in with the team before returning to the hospital. Once at the lab, he saw Angela and Hodgins up on the platform and joined them.

"Hey, Booth. How's Dr. B?" Hodgins asked.

"She's already bored. I had to talk her out of having Cam send over work for her to review."

Angela smiled. "Well, I guess that means she's really going to be okay."

"Did you get some rest?" Booth asked, observing the social niceties before he jumped in with questions about the case.

Angela nodded, but Hodgins grumbled, "For a little while. Then she wakes up at 5AM with a brainstorm, so I have to get up and drive her in here."

"But it paid off, honey, didn't it?" Angela was practically buzzing with excitement. She held a piece of paper out to Booth. He took it and looked at the 6 letters and numbers on it, then back at Angela. "I just got it. It's the license plate of the car that they, well that they put her in after, you know."

Booth stared at this piece of paper in his hand. All of a sudden, it seemed so easy: run the plate, get an address, and leave it in an obvious place for Max to find. No worries about evidence or trials. But would that be justice or revenge? Before he could give in to his baser nature, he handed the paper back to Angela. "I'm not investigating this case," he said tersely. "You should give it to..." he trailed off, realizing that he was unaware of who the agent assigned to the case was.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly pulled up his emails, finding this morning's status report. "Agent Simmons. You should give it to Agent Simmons."

Angela smiled uneasily. "Yeah, but Booth, we work with you. I don't know this Simmons guy."

"No, Ange, it's the right thing to do. If I'm involved with any of this evidence, it's almost an automatic exclusion from trial. Then these guys get off and then, then someone has to deal with them outside of the system, and we've already tempted fate enough where that's concerned."

"Max?" Hodgins confirmed. Booth nodded. They all knew that Max Keenan had killed to protect his daughter in the past.

"Okay," Angela grudgingly agreed. "Let me fax this over and then we can head over to the hospital."

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As Booth and Angela stepped out of the elevator, they spotted Max pacing around the waiting room. At their worried looks, he explained, "They kicked me out while the change her dressings. Angela, why don't you go on back? They should be about finished." Max caught Booth's eye, indicating that the promised conversation from the previous night was about to occur.

Angela looked between the two men, who seemed to be having a nonverbal conversation. A very tense nonverbal conversation. "Yeah, I'll just go." She quickly slipped down the hallway.

"Max," Booth began, trying to head off any explosion.

"Booth, you threw my daughter over for that, for that..." Max continued his pacing, hands gesturing as he tried to think of a word to describe what he thought of Hannah.

"I didn't throw her over, Max. It just, things happened." Booth was already feeling guilty enough, he didn't really feel like letting Max pile on.

Max stopped and looked at him. "She's my little girl. You hurt her. That's all I know. You were supposed to be the one looking out for her when I'm not here."

"You think I don't know that?" he yelled. "You don't think every time I close my eyes, I see what I let happen?" His words caught in his throat, his breathing ragged. "I know I let her down."

Max tried to sustain his anger, but Booth's obvious distress was sapping some of the energy from his tirade. He sat down. "It just kills me to see her like this."

Booth nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

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Max, Booth, and Angela took turns keeping Brennan company throughout the rest of the morning. At lunchtime, the nurse came in with more medication. Booth was surprised to see her accept it with no argument. She smiled at him. "Why don't you go get some lunch? I'm going to get some sleep."

"You sure, Bones? I'm glad to hang out here as long as you want."

She stopped herself from sighing. They were all trying to so hard to keep her company, but she just wanted to be alone. She was so tired of trying to act normal with this great big void of memory leaping out at her at every turn, and she didn't want to worry all of them. It was better to just be alone at this point. "No, please. I'd really just like to rest."

Booth wanted to argue with her. When had she ever wanted to rest? But she had that look on her face, the one he never won an argument against. "Okay, but I will be back later this afternoon." He could swear that he saw gratitude in her eyes, under the stubbornness.

As he left the room, his phone rang. Seeing Hacker's number come up, he answered immediately. "Booth."

He heard Hacker inhale deeply. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this, but we picked them up." Booth froze. "The shooters. Angela's lead was good, we've got them in interrogation now."

"I want to be there," Booth said.

"I don't know. The last thing we need is a brutality charge."

"I just want to observe. I just want to see their faces. I'm already on my way," Booth said, running down the stairs to the garage.

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Hacker was waiting for Booth as he approached the interrogation rooms. He held up a hand to stop Booth before he barreled right into the observation room.

"Agent Booth, I will have you removed at the first sign that you may do anything to compromise this case," he said seriously.

"Understood, now let me in."

They went into a small room which allowed observation of both the interrogations. The sound was off for the moment and Booth just looked at them. "They're cops?" he asked. Plainclothes or not, he could identify most any officer on sight; it was something about the posture, the attitude. The idea that an officer of the law, someone who had sworn the same oaths he had, would attempt to kill an unarmed citizen, sickened him. "Which one did it?"

"We're still sorting out the whole story, but it looks like each of them fired one shot." Booth clenched his jaw, his hands balled into fists, as he fought the urge to burst into the interrogations and beat the living shit out of them.

After a moment, his rage under control, he asked, "Are they cooperating?"

Hacker shrugged. "To an extent. However, most of the names they're naming are already in custody. They have not given up whoever ordered the hit, so we don't know if someone we already have or not." He turned on the sound for one of the rooms and allowed Booth to listen.

It didn't take long for Booth to realize that while Agent Simmons was a decent interrogator, the suspect wasn't giving any valuable information. Frustration welled in him as he listened. Soon after, Simmons decided to take a break and left the interrogation room, reappearing in the observation room.

"Agent Booth," he said as he entered, holding out his hand. "How's your partner doing?"

Booth shook the offered hand, sizing up the agent that he only knew by sight. Simmons was tall, slighter in build than Booth was, but still carried an air of authority. Booth grudgingly acknowledged to himself that he was a probably good choice to carry out this investigation. "She's doing very well, actually. She may be out of ICU tonight."

"That's great," interjected Hacker. "Agent Booth, we have a proposal that I wanted to get your opinion on."

Booth waited warily for him to continue, but Agent Simmons took up the conversation. "We spoke with Ms. Burley, obviously, and understand that she and Dr. Brennan actually saw some of those involved." Booth nodded. "Ms. Burley was not able to accurately recall any of the men she saw, but we were thinking that Dr. Brennan might be able to. We wanted to show her the photos of those that we have arrested and see if she sees anyone missing."

Booth took a deep breath. He knew that Bones would help in whatever way they asked, but he wasn't sure it was going to be the best thing for her. But the sooner they got everyone involved behind bars, the sooner he could be sure that she was safe. "Okay," he agreed. "Provided that Sweets and I are there." Sweets may be a kid, but his position as a FBI psychologist would carry some weight if she started getting too upset.

They agreed to meet at the hospital in an hour.

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Booth was hoping to give Brennan a heads-up before everyone else got there. But when he returned to the hospital, they were in the process of moving her to a regular room. When all the commotion finally died down, there were Simmons, Hacker, and Sweets. Brennan's eyes widened when the four men entered her room.

Agent Simmons immediately took charge in the room, introducing himself to Brennan. Sweets hung back near the door in order to observe the group dynamic. He suspected that Dr. Brennan was not too happy about her case being assigned to another agent and was anxious to see how she and Booth handled it. Booth immediately went to her side, across from Simmons, taking a seat and resting his hand on the bed, inches from hers. Sweets thought it odd that Dr. Brennan did not immediately demand to know what they were doing there. Instead, she waited quietly for someone to speak.

Simmons pulled up a chair. Pulling out a file folder, he began, "Dr. Brennan, we understand that you may have seen one or more of our suspects. We have arrested several people at this point, but feel that there may be more out there. If you could review the photos of those we have in custody at this point and tell us if we have all the men you saw, it would be very helpful."

Brennan was silent for a moment. Her hand twitched toward Booth's, but she restrained herself from taking it in hers. "I don't know how much help I can be; most of the men were careful to hang back in the shadows."

Simmons abruptly leaned toward her. "I can't stress how important this is, Dr. Brennan. You won't be safe until we get all of these men behind bars."

She shrank back almost imperceptibly, proximity alerts screaming within her head. Picking up on her discomfort, Booth gently nudged her hand with his own, while saying, "Back off, Simmons. There's no need to push."

Simmons seemed to realize that he was being too aggressive. He leaned back in his seat. "I'm sorry, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan. I sometimes get a little too... enthusiastic for my own good."

"Of course, Agent Simmons," Brennan replied. It seemed most expedient to just cooperate with this new agent, this interloper. "I will look at your pictures."

The agent handed over several sheets of paper with multiple photos on each of them. She took her time looking them over, examining each face carefully and comparing her memories of that morning. After several minutes, Simmons made an impatient move as if he was going to speak, but Booth shook his head, a warning in his eyes. _Don't push her_.

A few more minutes and she handed the pages back to Simmons. "I'm sorry, but there is only one man I recall explicitly and he's not there."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't have said so if I wasn't," she relied in an offended voice.

"I apologize. Would you be able to provide a description?"

"I should be able to work with Angela to provide a sketch of the man. It would be quite beneficial to your investigation to apprehend him. He held a definitive leadership position within the group: the others deferred to him unquestioningly and he felt comfortable making decisions on his own. I would also surmise that he had some sort of military background, possibly intelligence, based on his level of comfort using violence to achieve his ends." That look in his eyes flashed through her memory. He had felt nothing when he hit her, neither remorse nor joy. He was completely distanced from his emotions.

Booth swallowed. Of course the man she would be able to identify was the one who hit her. But it made his blood boil that the creep was still out on the streets.

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I think that would be very helpful." He put the photos back in the folder and pulled out another sheet with six photos on it. Before handing it to her, he said, "Now I would like to see if you can identify the men who shot you."

Booth was on his feet in an instant. "You never said anything about that! Are you crazy? She doesn't even remember it happening." He tried to snatch the paper from Simmons, who held it back out of his reach.

Sweets stepped forward. "Agents, please, calm down." The two men glared at each other over the bed. Sweets looked at Dr. Brennan who was quiet, but pale, her eyes bouncing between the two. Her hands were clasped together tightly. "Director Hacker, I must ask that Agent Simmons leave the room. It was very ill-advised and irresponsible for him to spring this on Dr. Brennan."

Hacker nodded and motioned to Simmons to leave, taking the photo page from him as he did. "Dr. Sweets, I agree that it was a bad move not to clear this with you, but it would be helpful if we have a positive ID."

Brennan said quietly, "But I don't remember anything." Booth's aggressive tension drained out of him as he heard the timid fear in her voice.

Sweets looked at her, torn between wanting to protect his friend, wanting to push her for the case, and wanting to responsibly represent her interests as his client. "Dr. Brennan, it is possible that looking at these pictures could help you recover some memory of yesterday's events. Is this something you're interested in doing? Or maybe you'd like some time to consider it?"

They all looked at her. She dropped her eyes to her hands,twisting in her lap, wishing she was anywhere but here. She hated that everyone was seeing her like this, weakened and doubtful. The possibility of regaining her memories, of helping the case were both rational motives to look at those photos. Strengthening her resolve, she looked back up. "Let me see them."

Booth sat back down, looking at her closely, trying to discern any hesitation. She wouldn't meet his eyes as she held out her hand to Hacker, who waited for Sweets' nod before he handed her the photos.

For a minute, she stared at them without really seeing anything, then began to scan each face from the top left. She came to the third face and it felt like everything stopped around her. Her breath was coming in little gasps and she heard a roaring sound in her ears. Everything was blurry, everything except that face. All of a sudden, it all came flooding back to her: the pain, the fear, the smells in the trunk of the car, the certainty that death was minutes away.

"Bones?" Booth said quietly, not wanting to startle her in her apparent distress, but wanting to provide comfort if he could.

Without looking at any of them, she pointed to the third picture. "I remember it. It was him. He shot me."

Hacker took the photo sheet from her gently. "Thank you, Temperance. You are a brave, brave woman. I'm going to go now, but if you need anything, please feel free to call me."

Sweets cleared his throat. "How are you feeling, Dr. Brennan?" He saw her hands laying open on her lap, her face apparently relaxed, but her eyes were a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

"I'm fine, Sweets. Thank you for recommending such an effective method of treatment." Sweets and Booth both rolled their eyes at the same old line.

"Effective method...? Wow. You just recovered memories of an event so traumatic that your mind repressed it. I thought perhaps you would like to discuss some of the emotions you're feeling right now."

Fear, humiliation, weakness. Pushing those to the side, she said, "No, thank you. Obviously, as I've recovered my memories, my psyche must be properly prepared to handle it."

"Dr. Brennan, that's not really the way it works."

"I'm fine, Dr. Sweets," she said, with a clear finality in her voice. Sweets realized that he had better back off for now, rather than building up more defenses.

"Okay," he replied. "You know that you can call me any time if you change your mind." He smiled tensely at Booth and left.

"Bones, you really should talk about it. Maybe not to the kid, but to Angela, or me, if you want."

The look she gave him was one he hadn't seen before. He had seen her terrified, he had seen her confused, he thought he had seen it all. But the depth of emotion reflected in her blue eyes was new. "I don't want to talk, Booth. Please, just leave me alone."

"Bones, you shouldn't be alone right now. We don't have to talk about anything, but, please just let me stay."

She didn't say anything. Booth waited a moment, then kicked back in his chair, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Tears shined on her cheeks. Booth hurt for all that she must be experiencing. For a woman always in control, always looking for the logic behind a situation, this must be particularly difficult for her.

She knew what he must be thinking of her. But she couldn't tell him that it wasn't the negative experiences that prompted these traitorous tears. Those she had expected, and while they were more potent than any she remembered experiencing, she knew she would deal with them. No, this confusion and near-terror were the result of the one unexpected memory: her mother.


	9. On the Edge

On leaving Brennan's room, Hacker handed the sheet of photos back to Simmons. "She identified the guy on the top right."

"But sir," Simmons replied. "Both the shooters are on here. Why didn't you get the second ID?"

"We've gotten all we're going to get from her right now." Hacker started to walk away, but stopped as the testy voice of his subordinate followed him.

"You should have gotten it."

Hacker pivoted, a furious look on his face. "What is it about this case that makes everyone feel the need to tell me how to do my job!"

"All due respect, sir," Simmons bit out. "This is my case. With any other witness you would back me up; we would push to get the identification."

"Temperance Brennan is not any other witness. She is a valued member of our investigative team. From this point on, you will treat her as you would any member of the Bureau." The two men stared at each other for a moment before Simmons nodded abruptly. "Now," continued Hacker, "I want you to make sure they are running every possible test on that car and when we get the sketch, you'll circulate it throughout the FBI and all local law enforcement agencies. You may ask Dr. Brennan about the second shooter when, and only when, Dr. Sweets says it is okay."

Sweets was exiting the room at this point and looked between the two men, easily catching the tension in the air. "When I say what is okay?"

"Asking her about the second shooter."

Sweets shook his head instantly. "That is certainly not advisable at this time. She appears to be in severe denial about the impact of what happened."

Simmons shrugged. "So, if she's not feeling upset by it, what's the problem? Get Booth out of the room and I can go ask her."

Sweets chuckled. "Okay, first of all, nothing is moving Agent Booth from that room. Second of all, I didn't say she's not upset. I said she's denying that she's upset. The fact that she stopped looking at the pictures after finding the first shooter when you specifically mentioned more than one shooter," Sweets trailed off. "Well, I've never known Dr. Brennan to leave a task unfinished. If you two will excuse me, I am going to call Angela and ask her to bring her drawing supplies when she comes to visit in the morning."

Hacker nodded. "Agent Simmons, you will consult with Dr. Sweets before directly approaching Dr. Brennan from this point on. Is that understood?"

Simmons restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Understood, sir."

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She had not said a word to him since he had asked to stay with her. She just laid there, thinking so hard he could almost hear her. He wished he could. Something was going on in her head and from the look on her face, it wasn't good.

She wouldn't look at him, but she could feel him there, worrying about her. She felt like she should say something to him, so that he would stop worrying, but she honestly didn't know what to say. The facts of her attack were blurry at best and would be of little substantive value to the case. She felt a chill every time she remembered looking up into those eyes on the street outside her building. Wrenching her mind away from that image only led her to an even more confusing image.

She remembered watching herself in surgery. She had been informed of her cardiac 'event' the morning after she woke. She was well aware of the popular conception of the phenomenon labeled 'near-death experience' and also well aware of the scientific refutations. As her body neared a state of death, increased levels of endorphins promoted the feeling of calm and peace, and the hallucinatory experiences were nothing more than 'neural noise' as her brain coped with the lack of support from her heart. These were hypotheses that she could understand and that fit with her anecdotal experience.

Except she had seen her mother. She had felt her brush her hair away from her face, just like she always had when Brennan was younger. She had seen her mother's beautiful face and felt her arms around her as she whispered soothing noises in her ear. And she didn't know what to believe anymore. Was her mother merely a figment of her dying imagination? Had she had what Booth would call a religious experience? Tears leaked out her eyes despite her best efforts as she fought to categorize this experience, to make some sense of it.

Suddenly, she heard Booth shift in his chair and felt his hand covering hers. "Bones, please look at me." She slowly turned her face to look at him.

"You have been through something awful. There's nothing wrong with needing time to deal with it, but you can't just keep it all inside you this time. You really need to talk to someone about how you're feeling, about what happened."

"You don't understand, Booth. This isn't what you think it is."

"Then tell me what it is, please. Temperance, let me help you." His eyes were pleading with her to let him in, to let him help her. She wanted to give him something to reassure him that she trusted him.

"I can't tell you everything. But I will tell you what I can."

He agreed. Sometimes all you had to do was get the person talking, and the everything would spill out whether they meant it to or not. Other times, the initial talk worked as a foundation for future disclosures. Either way, it was a good sign that she was opening up, and he was both honored and humbled that she still trusted him enough to do it.

She thought for a moment then began, turning her hand up to grasp his. "I had no idea that I'd even been shot at first. It just hurt, so suddenly, and then I couldn't breathe." Her free hand strayed up toward her chest and hovered there. "It wasn't until he walked up to me that I began to realize what was happening. I couldn't even fight them off when they picked me up. I just didn't do anything."

Booth heard the anger in her voice directed at herself. "Hey," he said. "You had just been shot. Your lung had collapsed. What were you supposed to do? You did the smartest thing you could, leaving your ring behind. If it hadn't been for that, I might not have even seen the," he paused. "Not that it did any good, we still weren't the ones to find you."

"You were looking and that's what counts," she replied softly. "I knew you were looking. Everything from that point on is in flashes. Either I was in and out of consciousness or I haven't completely recovered my memories." Her brow furrowed. "It's frustrating not being able to trust my own memories."

Booth nodded. "But it's really more probable, isn't it, that you were simply not completely conscious?"

"It is the most likely scenario, but I don't know that I will ever feel completely sure. I remember bits of the ride: the smell of the trunk, the darkness." She trailed off as she flashed to another car trunk suddenly. She hadn't fought then either. She had been warned, he had warned her. Senses assaulted her brain: a dish breaking, a gunshot cracking the air, rough voices and rough hands, smells of dust and road tar. She found herself gasping for air that didn't seem to be coming.

Booth watched in dismay as she stopped talking. Her face paled noticeably and her breathing became erratic. "Bones?" he asked, only to receive no response. She didn't give any sign she heard him. She was gulping for air, her eyes wide and frightened, although he didn't think she was seeing anything in the room. Suddenly, it dawned on him. The trunk. When they had been trying to open up to Sweets, she had shared that her foster parents had locked her in a car trunk for two days. Now she had relived that experience. He pressed the button for the nurse and softly called her name again. "Bones, Temperance. You're okay. You're not in there anymore. You're safe. I'm here." He continued babbling soothing phrases until the nurse came in.

Keeping his voice as calm as possible, he told the nurse, "I think she's having an anxiety attack." The nurse nodded and disappeared, coming back a minute later with a syringe which she emptied into the IV line. Shortly thereafter, Brennan's breathing started to slow and her eyes slowly refocused on the present. The nurse left, satisfied that her patient was calm again.

The medication had taken the edge off her emotions but they were still there. She knew that she had been terrified, not only in the car, but just now. But it made no sense to be feeling the fear as if it were a present reality. She fought to rein in her emotions, but every time her mind returned to that trunk, to either of them, she felt that fear.

She saw Booth, his worried eyes watching her carefully, waiting for her to make the next move. She felt extraordinarily embarrassed to have behaved so irrationally in front of him. She tried to look away, but there was something in his eyes that she found herself drawn to. Where she had expected pity or disappointment, she saw something that she couldn't quite name, but found to be both comforting and strengthening. They sat like that for several minutes, Booth projecting all the things she would not allow him to say aloud through his eyes.

Before she quite knew what was happening, she felt the tears forming in her eyes. As sobs ripped from her, she reached for him. Perching carefully on the edge of the bed, he folded her into his arms. She cried until she was exhausted. He gently helped her lay back on her pillow, dried her face, and returned to his position holding her hand as she fell asleep.

She slept fitfully, never quite waking up, but thrashing about every now and then. Booth would wake each time and do his best to calm her fears. He would hold her, running his hands up and down her arms in gentle strokes, or whisper gently to her, his voice resonating through the fog of her nightmares.

When Angela arrived the next morning, she found them asleep, Booth having given up on the chair and somehow balancing on the very edge of the bed, their heads next to each other on her pillow. She smiled broadly as she approached the sleeping couple. Gently putting a hand on Booth's shoulder, she whispered, "Wake up sleepy head!"

He started awake so quickly that he almost fell off the bed, but regained his balance at the last minute. Seeing Angela, he quickly slipped off the bed and stood there red-faced. Trying to alleviate his embarrassment, she asked, "Rough night?"

Booth nodded. "She's remembered some, maybe all of it. It got bad for a while there."

"Well, I'm glad you were there for her." Booth looked away, thinking about his last serious conversation with Angela in which she had made it clear that he had not been there for Brennan lately. Angela touched his hand. "I mean it. Not just last night, this whole thing, you've really been here. Even if she won't say it, I know it's meant everything to her."

Booth looked down at the sleeping scientist. She meant everything to him. He was clear about that now. Angela looked at him and hid a smile. She hated that it had taken something like this to return the universe to the way it was supposed to be, but it looked that these two were back on the right path.

"Hey, why don't you go get a shower and something to eat? I'll sit here till she wakes up and then I'm supposed to work with her to do a sketch."

Booth nodded. "Yeah. I think I'll do that. Maybe check in at the office too. Will you tell her I'll be back by lunchtime?"

"Absolutely, big man." As he left, Angela settled herself into the chair, pulling a magazine out of her bag to read as she waited.

It wasn't very much later that Brennan woke, struggling against grogginess generated by a combination of the medications and the disturbed sleep. A general feeling of tension and distress still clung to her mood. She looked around, biting back a sound of dismay when she saw Angela there instead of Booth. Angela saw the look in her eyes however and said, "He'll be back around lunchtime, sweetie. Just had to go check in at the office."

Brennan thought about feigning confusion as to what Angela was talking about, but opted not to. She nodded. "Thanks."

"Booth told me you've remembered some stuff. How are you feeling about everything?"

Brennan gave the question careful consideration, much to Angela's surprise. She had been expecting the typical 'I'm fine' Brennan blow-off. "It is very difficult," she replied after a minute. "While I am glad to have my memories restored, it has prompted some quite uncomfortable reactions."

Angela nodded. "I'm here anytime you want to talk, or if you just need a shoulder to cry on."

"Thank you," she replied, smiling.

They got down to the business of working on the sketch. Fortunately, years of working with each other allowed Angela to efficiently interpret and render Brennan's overly-scientific descriptions into a visual representation that Brennan agreed was an extraordinary likeness. They then spent the remainder of the morning chatting about normal topics. Angela was satisfied if she was talking to Booth about her experiences. If Brennan simply wanted Angela to provide some normalcy, that's what she would do.

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Booth's quick shower and travel mug of coffee just pushed him over the line into feeling human. Human enough at least to face Agent Simmons for a face-to-face update. He was still angry over the underhanded way he had handled Brennan's interview yesterday, treating her more like a suspect than a witness.

After a few forced pleasantries, Simmons gave Booth an update. "We got the results back on the blood evidence in the trunk. Type match to Dr. Brennan. I have DNA running, but I'm confident that it will match. I can't believe those idiots actually used their own car for this. The arrests must have really spooked them. Has the sketch girl worked with her yet?"

Booth's jaw twitched. "Angela," he emphasized her name, "was there when I left. I believe that they will work on it when Bones wakes up."

"Great," said Simmons, shuffling some folders on his desk. Looking back up at Booth, he asked, "Did you need anything else?"

"No, Simmons. I'll let you get back to work." Booth managed to get out of the office before letting the scowl become apparent on his face. Growling to himself, he made his way down to Sweets' office for a quick talk before heading back to the hospital.

Booth tapped on the open door to alert the psychologist to his presence. Sweets looked up. "Agent Booth, come on in. How is Dr. Brennan doing?"

Booth walked into the office but was too edgy to take the offered seat, instead choosing to pace back and forth behind the couch. Sweets moved from his desk to the armchair, watching him pace without saying anything.

"How is Dr. Brennan dealing with her recovered memories?" Sweets finally asked, when it became apparent that Booth wasn't going to say anything anytime soon.

"How do you think she's doing, Sweets?" he growled.

Taking a deep breath, Sweets responded, "Agent Booth, you came to see me. If you'd like to talk about something, I'm here. If you just want to snap at me, I'd prefer you leave."

Booth stopped abruptly. "Sorry. I was just talking with Agent Simmons. Guess I carried my bad mood in here." Sweets nodded his understanding. It would be unprofessional to overtly share his own negative thoughts of the aggressive agent with a co-worker. "She's not doing great." Seeing the look of alarm on Sweets' face, he hastened to add, "Not physically. She's recovering as expected. It's just... last night was so hard for her."

"Is she still refusing to talk about it?"

Booth shook his head. "No, she shared a bit with me. But then," he trailed off. Sweets saw the tension in his body escalating. "That damn trunk, Sweets. She was trying to tell me about them putting her in the trunk of their car and..." He shook his head. "It was like she just broke. She couldn't breathe, I don't even think she was seeing anything in the room. I had to call a nurse to give her something to help her calm down. And then afterward, she cried." His voice held the confused and fearful tenor of a child seeing a parent break down for the first time. He looked at Sweets. "I've seen her hurt, I've seen her scared. I've never seen this."

"It sounds to me like she had an anxiety attack."

"I know that!" snapped Booth. He walked around to sit on the couch and repeated, more calmly, "I know that. What I don't know is how to help."

"You just be there for her. She's talking to you, crying; these are important steps to healing. Frankly, I'd be much more concerned if she wasn't. But how are you doing?"

"Me?" Booth asked, confused.

Sweets nodded. "Yes. I'm not surprised that she's picked you as her confidant. But it's going to put a lot of pressure on you, at a time when you are already going through your own problems."

Booth waved Sweets' concern away. He said fiercely, "I will do anything to help her."

"I'm sure of that. I just want you to remember that she needs you to be in good shape mentally as well. Do you have anyone you can talk to? Your feelings of guilt were very apparent the other night. Add to that your anger at Hannah and subsequent breakup; I just want to make sure that you have a release valve if you need it as well."

Booth stood up. "Understood. Thanks, Sweets."

He turned and walked out the door, leaving Sweets shaking his head, muttering, "Why do I even try?"

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Booth returned to the hospital to find Angela doodling while Brennan dozed. She got up and met him by the door.

"How is she?" he asked.

Angela shrugged. "A little tense. But we did get the sketch done. In fact, now that you're here, I'm going to get back to the Jeffersonian and fax it over to Agent Bite-Me, sorry, Simmons." She showed Booth the sketch she and Brennan had agreed on.

He looked at it intently. It seemed vaguely familiar to him. Angela looked at him quizzically. "Booth, do you know him?"

"No, I don't know him," he answered slowly. "But I think I've seen him before." He searched his mind, but came up blank. "Dammit," he swore softly. "I can't remember."

"Maybe you just want to know who it is? So you can go all 'Booth' on his ass and make sure she's safe?" Angela suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed, although he didn't really think that was the case. "Anyway, you can get going. Say hi to everyone for me."

"Will do. And tell her bye from me," Angela indicated their sleeping friend with a big smile. Booth nodded and settled down to wait for her to wake up, methodically, yet futilely, searching through everyone he had ever met to try to find a match to that face.

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The rest of the week passed quite slowly. While logically she knew that the passage of time was still subject to the same physical laws as always, her perception of time was quite distorted. If the days seemed endless, the nights felt even longer. While Booth, Max, and the squints did what they could to alleviate the boredom, even going to far as to bring her some research files to review, she anxiously awaited the day when the doctor would say she could be discharged.

The nightmares were continuing. Some she shared with Booth or Angela, the ones which she could see directly relating to her abduction. The dreams of her mother she kept to herself. She would wake from those not scared but lonely, feeling her loss as acutely as she had when she was 15.

Finally, Saturday morning, the doctor said she was well enough to finish her recovery at home. After signing a stack of papers and receiving her discharge instructions, she was free. Booth slowly wheeled her down to the elevator which would take them to meet Angela in the lobby. It had been decided, despite her protests, that they would take turns staying at her place to ensure that she would follow the doctor's instructions and would not overtax herself.

They entered the elevator and Booth pushed the button for the lobby. The doors closed, thumping a little when they met. Brennan's mind heard the click of the trunk latch again, felt the confinement, breathed the stale air. She felt trapped and helpless, trying to voice her distress but unable to force sound out.

Booth suddenly felt her hand close on his arm like a vice. Looking down at her, he saw the panic overwhelming her and knelt in front her. Taking her hands in his, he spoke gently and calmly. "Bones, look at me. Listen to me. I'm right here with you. You're not there anymore. You'll never be there again." He could tell by her eyes that she was seeing him, but still she was gasping for air and trembling. "Come on, Bones, you're stronger than this. Just concentrate on me, just think about... think about the time we took Parker to the zoo and he was acting like a monkey. Remember how we laughed?" Booth continued babbling about anything he could think of, willing the elevator to hurry up and get to the lobby.

The timbre of his voice penetrated the fog in her mind, chipping away at the darkness and terror. She followed it like a lifeline, held on to it, and gradually her breathing slowed, her muscles relaxed, her heart stopped feeling like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest. She stared into Booth's eyes, seeing something there that she was afraid to give a name to.

"Booth," she began, just as the doors opened and the busy noises of the hospital lobby broke into their moment. Reluctantly, he stood up and began to push her toward the doors, where Angela should be waiting with her van. He wondered what she had been about to say. He couldn't ask her, not yet. He had resolved not to push the 'feelings' issue, not now while they were still in crisis mode, but he thought he had caught just a glimpse of something there.

Angela was indeed waiting outside, her van tailed by an FBI truck with the detail that would be following them to Brennan's home and take the first shift. Until they caught the man whom she had described, she was to have twenty-four hour protection, apart from Booth, who had already resolved to leave her side as little as possible.

Exiting the doors, Brennan brought her hand up to shield her eyes against the natural light they had missed for nearly a week. Angela smiled as she leaned down to hug her friend and help her out of the wheelchair. As she and Booth settled her into the van, Angela slipped something into Brennan's hand.

Brennan looked at her in surprise. "My sunglasses? Where did you get these?" she asked.

Angela gave a mischievous grin. "Just thought it was time you start to take back what's yours."

Brennan shook her head. From her tone, she surmised that Angela was talking about something more than just the glasses. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's okay, sweetie. You don't have to."

With everyone settled in, Brennan finally began her trip back home.


	10. Answers

The ride home was relatively quick, for which Brennan was grateful. This was the first time she had been in a vehicle (at least while conscious) and she found the motion somewhat distressing. Rationally, she knew there was no reason to fear a car ride, but all the same she felt a great sense of relief once Angela pulled up in front of her building.

Then came the elevator ride. She was tempted to ask to take the stairs, but just the short walk into the lobby was already extremely fatiguing, so she steeled herself for the less physically exhausting route. Booth, well aware that the elevator might be a problem, kept an arm around her as they walked through the lobby, allowing her to lean on him. As they entered the elevator car, he stayed close by her. Almost immediately, he felt her grip his arm, the grip tightening as the doors closed. Brennan concentrated on breathing, calling to mind some of the meditation practices that she had studied in various cultures. She could dimly hear Angela's voice as she filled the silence with talk about the latest baby shopping expedition and the oh so cute crib set she had found.

Finally the elevator doors opened and, with just a short walk down the hall, she was home. Brennan was exhausted, physically and emotionally, by the time Angela and Booth helped her through her door. Angela helped her into her bedroom while Booth stayed behind to verify security procedures with the agents.

After helping her change into some comfortable clothes and get into bed, Angela said, "Okay, sweetie, I'm going to let you get some rest now. One or both of us will be out there when you wake up. Just call and we'll come help you."

Brennan nodded sleepily, overwhelmed at how exhausting just the little bit of activity she had done today had been. She was hopeful that being in her own bed might help to keep the nightmares that had been plaguing her this week at bay.

Angela slipped out, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her. She found Booth pacing in the living room. He looked up when she entered. "Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I think she's going to take a nap though. What about you, how are you doing?"

He shrugged, tension rolling off him. Ever since they had left the relatively controlled environment of the hospital, he had felt the stress building. He was constantly on alert, looking for danger at every turn. He wouldn't be able to relax until they got that last guy behind bars, only no one was talking.

"Dammit," he cursed softly, but vehemently.

Angela looked at him with concern. She sat on the couch. "Come sit down and tell me what's bothering you."

He continued to pace, too wound up to sit. "I've seen him, Angela."

"Who? The guy, the one we've been looking for?" At Booth's despondent nod, her eyes widened. "You know him?"

"No, I don't _know_ him, but I've seen him before... somewhere. I just can't remember where." His pacing was picking up tempo, his fists balled by his side, and Angela was starting to worry he might just implode. She sighed.

"Booth, why don't you take some time this afternoon for yourself?" she suggested. The glare he gave her was intense, but she would not be dissuaded. "You have spent almost an entire week at the hospital and when you're not there, you're scrounging around for info on the case. You haven't had a decent night's sleep and you are constantly worried. You need to do something to vent some of that energy."

"I don't want to leave her alone, Ange."

"I know, but she won't be alone. I'll be here for moral support and those two behemoths in the hall will be here to keep us safe. Maybe you can go spend some time with Parker, take a walk, I don't know. Just relax and reboot. Maybe not thinking about it for a while will help."

Booth silently acknowledged the validity of her proposal.

"Besides, I need you to come back here and take the night shift," she added, winking.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm going. If only so that I don't have to hear any more of your clever innuendos! But I want one of the agents in here with you two at all times when I'm not here." Angela twitched a bit at spending the afternoon with some stranger watching her, but agreed. It was probably in the best interests of Brennan's safety. And if it was the only way to get Booth to go relax, she would put up with it.

After checking all the windows twice and conferring with the other agents, Booth finally left. A quick call to Rebecca confirmed that Parker was free that afternoon and Booth found himself looking forward to spending some carefree time with his son.

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Angela puttered around for the next hour, trying to pretend like there wasn't someone else in the room just watching. She had tried to talk to him, but he had quietly informed her that it wasn't protocol for agents to be overly friendly with their protectees. She finally wandered into the kitchen to prepare some lunch for when Brennan woke up. She put together a simple, albeit somewhat bland in deference to her friend's medically recommended diet, tofu stir fry with some rice noodles. She had just turned the heat to low to keep it warm, when she heard a noise from the bedroom.

Hovering outside the door, she heard Brennan thrashing around and hurried in to try to quiet her before she hurt herself. Perching on the edge of the bed, she looked at her best friend's face, drawn tight with fear and pain. She reached out to gently shake her shoulder, but before she could touch her, Brennan's eyes flew open and her legs kicked out, one knee catching Angela in the side, knocking her from the bed with a grunt.

"Bren!" Angela yelled. Her friend shook herself as she took stock of where she was. She looked around seeing her own room, her familiar things, and incongruently, her best friend sprawled on the floor.

"Angela, what happened?" she asked.

Angela used the bed to help get herself back to a standing position and she took her seat next to Brennan once again. Rubbing her side, she answered, "We had a little collision sweetie. Are you okay?" She looked at Brennan, whose breathing was still a little quicker and her eyes still wider than normal.

Brennan shook her head and reverted to her standard answer. "I'm fine. What collision?"

"You were having a dream and when I came to check on you, you kind of kneed me."

Brennan's eyes focused on where Angela was rubbing the side of her belly. "Angela, the baby!" she exclaimed. "We need to get you to a doctor."

Angela waved her hand. "We're fine. I mean, look at how much padding the baby has."

Brennan struggled to a sitting position. "Angela, I insist." Her voice raised in pitch. "You can't take any chances."

Angela chuckled. "And I thought it was the pregnant woman that was supposed to be hysterical." She took her friend's hand and placed it on her belly. "Feel that? Junior is kicking me from inside way harder than you got me outside!" She looked at Brennan's worried face and relented. "Okay, I assure that nothing is wrong, but if it will set your mind at ease, I will go see the doctor after Booth gets back."

Brennan's face fell. Although she should have realized when he didn't come storming into the room at all the commotion, she was disappointed to learn that he wasn't there. Angela smiled. "I'm sure he'll be back soon. I had to pretty much kick him out. I sent him to go relax for a while. He was kind of hitting the top of the stress meter."

Brennan took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of her jumbled emotions. Booth had every right to go take a break; he had put in more time than expected taking care of her and keeping her company this week. She couldn't expect him to continue to put his life on hold for her.

Angela added, "If you're hungry, I have some lunch waiting." Pushing aside her dejected feelings, Brennan nodded and gingerly stood up. Together, they headed to the kitchen.

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Booth returned around dinnertime, worn out by his afternoon activities with Parker, but relaxed. A look of relief crossed the two women's faces as soon as he walked through the door, nodding to the other agent that he could take up a post back in the hall.

Brennan exclaimed, "Booth, you're back!" She was very glad that he had returned because no matter what Angela said, she wasn't going to feel comfortable until Angela's baby was pronounced fine by an obstetrician. There was also a part of her that had just plain missed him. She couldn't deny how happy she was to see him.

Angela was just happy to get away from the silent, gun-toting agent that had kept them 'company' all afternoon. She was reminded again of what a unique agent Booth was, at least partly due to the influence of the Jeffersonian gang.

Booth was concerned at the urgency of his greeting. "Did something happen? Are you two okay?" The agent in the hallway hadn't reported anything unusual.

"I'm fine," Brennan answered. "But Angela needs to go the hospital and she refused to go until you returned."

"The hospital?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "She bumped my belly when I was waking her up and now she is insisting that I get checked out."

As Angela had expected, his overprotective instincts kicked in. "Angela, why didn't you call me? Let's get you out of here."

She held her hands up and spoke very clearly, looking him straight in the eye. " _I_ am okay. I'm going to go to the doctor just to set Bren's mind at ease. _You_ need to stay here. Jack is already on his way over to pick me up."

Booth nodded his assent, despite Brennan's protestations. "Bones, she seems fine. If it's not an emergency, there's no sense in dragging you out of here. It's not good for your health or your security."

She grudgingly agreed. She wouldn't admit it but just sitting up for the afternoon had been quite draining. They sat together in the living room until Hodgins arrived.

Angela smiled as she grabbed her bag to leave. "Take care you two. I'll let you know when the doctor says everything is fine. Have a good night." She slipped out the door leaving them alone.

They looked at each other, feeling suddenly unsure. Booth hadn't been to her apartment for over a year, not since before Maluku and Afghanistan, before Hannah. She sought for something to say, uncertain why it was suddenly so difficult.

"How was your day? Did you achieve a satisfactory level of relaxation?"

Booth smiled uneasily, feeling no more comfortable than she was. "Yeah, uh, you know. I spent some time with Parker, we tossed a ball around, it was good." He nodded. "Actually, would you mind if I grabbed a shower?"

Trying to ignore the slight quickening of her heartbeat, she responded, "Of course not. You know where it is."

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Booth, I think I can manage for 20 minutes all by myself."

"Yeah, sure, of course you can." He winced inwardly as he thought of what she could get up to in 20 minutes. But she looked pretty settled on the couch. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to read?"

"No, thank you. I think I'm going to just rest for a bit." He nodded and headed for the bathroom as she leaned her head against the back of the couch.

He was toweling off after a quick shower when he heard a crash from the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of sweats from his overnight bag, he slid into them as he headed to the source of the sound, picking up his gun from the bureau as he passed. He met up with one of the protective agents also on the way to investigate. Hurrying in to the kitchen, they found her sitting on the floor, trying to pull herself up onto a chair that had been dragged over to the cabinets.

Though her face betrayed some discomfort, she smiled ruefully at them. "I thought I'd get some dinner ready for you, Booth."

The other agent lowered his weapon. "I'll be back outside," he said brusquely and left.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, exasperation evident in his voice. "I would have helped." He leaned over to help her up to sit on the chair. She was uncomfortably aware of his state of semi-dress and disengaged from him as soon as she was sure she was stable on the chair.

"Booth, I have to be able to do these things for myself."

"Not immediately, Bones. You're still recovering."

She looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to depend on you," she said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because you won't always be here. Eventually you will find another girlfriend or something else that will become more important than I am." Though she hid it well, Booth heard the heartbreak in her voice.

He shook his head. "I don't want that."

"Well, that's the order of things. You've moved on, you no longer have those feelings for me that you once did. You said as much in the car that night." She held her voice very steady. She had to impress upon him that this was an acceptable state of affairs.

"No, Bones. God, no." He maneuvered so that he could look her straight in the eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and glassy as she held back tears. "I never said that I didn't love you. And if that's what you heard, I am so sorry. I had to make a decision that night. I made the wrong one. I thought you were being over-emotional due to the case and I was afraid that you would wake up the next morning and think you had made a mistake."

He took her hands in his. "So many people have walked away from you in the past, but I won't. Not again. If you still want to try this, try us, I'm in. If not, we just keep going as we are." He smiled, though his heart was hammering in his chest. He had not anticipated having this discussion tonight. "I'll take you any way I can get you."

She looked at him quizzically. "Are you saying...? What are you saying?"

His heart was in his throat. "I didn't want to say anything until we had all of this behind us. The case, your recovery. Crises can make people behave strangely and I want you to have full confidence in what I am about to say to you." She nodded, trust warring with fear in her eyes.

He knelt in front of her. "I love you, Temperance Brennan. I love you and I will take whatever you feel that you can give me. I am praying that you still want to give us a chance, but..."

She interrupted. "Booth." He stilled, waiting for what felt like the most important announcement of his life. She smiled. "I do." She leaned forward a bit, ignoring the slight pain in her torso, and pressed her lips to his, lightly at first, then as he responded, more and more fervently. After a minute, she could no longer ignore the pain in her belly and pulled back, flushed and panting.

Instantly, Booth was on his feet, helping her up. "Let's get you to bed."

She chuckled lightly. "While tempting, I don't think that is the most prudent course of action at this point."

He laughed, as he tucked her against his side and led her toward the bedroom. "That's not what I meant. I meant that you need to rest, so I'm going to tuck you in, get you your meds, and let you get your sleep."

She couldn't deny the feeling of disappointment that surged through her, but she allowed him to do as he proposed. After she took her pills, he sat carefully on the bed next to her. "So," he said, not exactly sure where to go from here. "I'll just let you get some sleep then."

He got up and headed for the hallway when her voice stopped him. He turned back to see her looking very unsure of herself.

"Booth, would you stay with me tonight?" She found it hard to force the words out. Years of habit making it difficult to ask anyone for anything.

"Stay with you?" he asked, unsure what exactly she was requesting.

She indicated the other side of her queen-size bed. "I just feel that I don't want to be alone right now." She berated herself for only revealing half the truth. She had not been truly alone for almost a week and was indeed loath to be by herself, but she also knew that it was Booth that she wanted to stay with her, more than anyone else.

If she hadn't been injured, he would have taken a flying leap onto the bed. Given the circumstances, he merely contented himself with walking back to the bed as quickly as possible. As he approached, he confirmed, "You sure?"

She smiled and reached a hand out to him. "Yes, I am."

Booth felt like he was walking on air as he slid gently under the sheets, trying not to jostle her. She smiled and wiggled over a bit so that her shoulder was touching his. Given this implicit permission, he turned on his side and softly placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't say anything, just rubbed her cheek against his hand and closed her eyes. This was possibly the safest she had felt since the shooting, his presence warming her almost as if he physically held her.

He watched her as she fell asleep. He thought she looked more peaceful than she had at any point in the hospital and oh so beautiful. He gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, his heart warming as she smiled in her sleep. Closing his eyes, he fell into a peaceful slumber alongside her.

His dream started shortly thereafter, a muddled memory of last year's September 11 memorial event at the Pentagon. He had attended with other stateside members of his old unit; many other groups also shared a mixture of active duty and former soldiers. In his dream, he wandered through the crowd, urgently looking for something or someone. Then he saw him, the face that had been haunting him for days. He was in uniform, Booth saw, but not military. He struggled to see through the haziness of the dream.

A muffled voice and a dull thud cut through his dream state, pulling him to alertness. As he sat up, reaching for his gun from where he had placed it on the night table. Sitting silently, he heard the rattling of the doorknob as someone struggled with the lock.

"Bones," he whispered, putting one hand gently on her back where she had halfway turned on her side. "Bones, wake up."

She moved a bit, then tried to snuggle back into the covers. Booth cursed the medication as he shook her, gently but firmly.

"Booth?" came her voice finally, very irritated.

"Shh, there's someone trying to get in." Panicked, she tried to sit up, only to sag back as she felt the strain across her abdomen. "You stay here, I'm going out there. Call 911," he ordered as he slipped out of bed.

Suddenly, his dream came back to him and in a flash, he realized who it was that Brennan had described. He turned back and quickly amended his statement, "Don't call the cops. Call Hacker and have him send agents here ASAP, but no cops. Make sure he understands that."

"Booth, what's going on?" she asked, even as she reached for the phone.

He realized that it had been silent for a while now. "No time. I'm locking the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone except me or Hacker."

She wanted to protest but he was out the door before she could. Dialing with shaking fingers, she relayed his message and hung up, ignoring the questions coming from the other end of the line. She stared at the blank door, straining to hear anything from the other side.

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Booth moved silently down the hallway. He listened intently, but heard nothing. Stepping out into the living room, he saw the door still closed, everything looked in order. He started across the room to see if the lock had been tampered with. His heart sank after one step as he felt the muzzle of a gun against his back.


	11. Trust in You

"Put the gun down, Agent Booth. Slowly," came the cold voice from behind him.

Praying that Bones would do as he asked and stay in her room and that Hacker's agents would arrive soon, he crouched slowly and placed his gun on the floor. As he stood back up, the voice spoke again. "Kick it away from you. I've heard of your penchant for heroics. We don't want any of that tonight."

Booth toed the gun across the floor. It hit the wall dividing the living room from the hallway. Hearing no further orders, Booth turned around, holding his hands away from his body. Seeing the face from Angela's sketch and, more recently, from his dream, he smiled grimly. "Hello, Commander."

"So you recognized me? You must have a very good memory, Agent. One of my greatest assets is my ability to be absolutely forgettable. It served me well in my military career; hasn't done too badly in my side business either," he smirked.

Booth smiled to himself. Bones was right again, he must have been military intelligence. Aloud he said, "Well, don't be too hard on yourself. It took me the better part of a week to remember seeing you. I still don't know your name."

"Commander Benjamin Stillwell, Metropolitan Police."

Booth nodded. "So I understand why it took me so long, but your picture was circulated to every local police department. You may have a few friends left on the force that we haven't arrested yet, but I'm surprised there isn't anyone with the guts to turn you in." He wanted to keep Stillwell talking for as long as possible. Obviously the man intended to kill both him and Brennan, feeling no need to keep his identity or status a secret.

Stillwell laughed. "Well, you see Agent Booth, those APBs come through my office, where I assure you I have several employees still loyal to me. A few tweaks here and there and the sketch we redistribute to MPD and the other local jurisdictions is safe as houses." He shrugged. "Just my luck, I guess."

Booth couldn't see any opening to initiate an attack. The man was staying at a safe distance; there was no way to physically attack him without him being able to get a shot off. Not to mention, he looked to be in very good condition, making it at least a fair fight. He knew that if her were to be incapacitated, Bones would be next.

"So, you're probably wondering why I haven't just shot you like I did those agents at the door?" Booth swallowed harshly. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by worry about what had happened to the others. There would be time for that later. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to invite your little scientist girlfriend out here. I'm sure you left her with some strict instructions for her safety and I'd rather not batter down the door. So, if you get her out here, I promise that it will be quick for both of you." His smile was icy as he added, "If not, I promise that you will live to see her begging me to end it."

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Brennan couldn't hear anything outside and Booth hadn't returned. She didn't even know what had woken him up in the first place. Finally her impatience got the better of her and she eased herself to standing. Cautiously approaching the door, she put her ear to it and could faintly hear voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying or who Booth was talking to. She unlocked the door and quietly opened it, easing down the hallway. She stopped at the end and stole a peek around the corner.

"So, if you get her out here, I promise that it will be quick for both of you. If not, I promise that you will live to see her begging me to end it."

"I don't beg." Booth's world stopped when she stepped out from the hallway. For once in her life, couldn't she have listened to him?

Stillwell's smile grew wider as he swung the gun from Booth to Brennan. Seeing his only chance, Booth launched himself at Stillwell just as the gun went off. Brennan had not stopped as she entered the room, immediately crouching down to pick up Booth's gun from the floor. The bullet flew above her head as Booth wrestled the shooter to the ground, sending his gun skidding across the floor. As he had suspected, Stillwell was an even match for him physically and they were scrambling for the upper hand when her voice rang out.

"Freeze, dirtbag!" The two men stopped long enough to look up to see her standing above, pointing the gun straight down at them. Booth's eyes widened and he quickly rolled away. She smiled as her eyes flicked quickly to him. "Booth, you, of course, are not the dirtbag. I was referring to him." She gestured with the gun to where Stillwell was laying frozen on the floor, unable to comprehend the scene above him. Booth quickly got to his feet and took the gun from her, ushering her behind him as they both backed up out of Stillwell's reach.

Moments later, the door burst open as Hacker swarmed in with about five agents, guns drawn. Once the agents had restrained Stillwell, Booth lowered his gun. Behind the newcomers, Booth could see other agents kneeling over two prone bodies in the hall. A call was made for EMTs, indicating that at least one of them was alive. He noticed Hacker staring at him and realized that he was standing in a room full of his co-workers dressed in only a pair of sweatpants.

Brennan sank onto the couch, trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion. She kept thinking "It's over. It's over." She looked at her shaking hands and clasped them tightly together. Around her, the agents were securing the scene: recovering Stillwell's gun, digging the bullet out of her wall, checking the doorknob for evidence of forced entry.

Booth had ducked into the bedroom to grab a shirt for himself and a robe for Brennan. As he returned, he heard her phone chirp. Seeing that she hadn't noticed, he grabbed it from the charger by the door and brought it to her.

She took it from him automatically and checked the display. She half-smiled as she handed it back to him. "Angela texted to let us know that the doctor said she and the baby are okay."

Booth nodded and took a seat next to her on the couch. "You okay, Bones?" She had seemed so confident just minutes ago, but was now shaking and pale. She nodded absently, lost in thought. He took one of her hands in his and waited with her, she trying to sort out the tumult of her emotions, he observing the investigation occurring around them.

The paramedics arrived and loaded both of the injured agents onto gurneys, wheeling them quickly away. It took a couple of hours for Hacker's team to finish documenting the scene inside the apartment and in the hallway. Brennan sat quietly, concentrating all her efforts on projecting a facade of strength and calm, when inside she felt anything but.

Booth continued to sit beside her, feeling frustrated at his lack of action. He couldn't try to soothe Bones; he knew she would reject any such attempts in front of strangers. He couldn't assist the agents in the investigation since he was a witness, but his eyes followed every move everyone in the room made. They were thorough, he couldn't fault them on procedure.

Finally people started trickling out and eventually it was just Hacker left. The Assistant Director gazed at the two of them. It was clear to him that something had changed between them, and not just because he had seen that only one bed had been slept in. All the same, he was worried about Temperance. She had been too quiet tonight; he had never seen her able to refrain from commenting on a crime scene. That made what he had to ask of them that much more difficult.

He cleared his throat, snapping Brennan out of her reverie. "I need to take your statements now. It is really just a formality, but we need to adhere to procedure exactly. I need to talk to each of you individually." He saw Booth prepare to argue. "Agent Booth, I got the call a little while ago. Agent Davis died en route to the hospital. Sawyer is in surgery; they've told us it's touch and go. We need everything by the book so that this guy gets what is coming to him." Booth felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He had known it was unlikely that the agents would survive, he knew it was always hard to hear about agents dying in the line, but these two had been shot just feet from where he slept. His jaw tensed.

Hacker saw that Booth would cooperate and proceeded. "I'll talk with you first, Booth. Then you, Temperance." They both nodded quietly. "Temperance, why don't you go wait in the bedroom while I talk to Agent Booth?" She stood up, still not talking and started for the bedroom. Booth grabbed her hand before she took a step and she looked back at him. His eyes were shining at her, warm and loving. She nodded and squeezed his hand, then continued back to the bedroom.

As she waited, she considered the night's events. She was quite happy to have the mastermind behind this scheme caught and she looked forward to getting on with her life. But that meant assessing her reaction to her discussion with Booth before they fell asleep. He loved her. He had told her he loved her and he had held her and it had been perfect. Except for one thing.

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They had each given their statements quickly and efficiently. It didn't hurt that both of them were detail oriented and well aware of what information was pertinent to include. Hacker left as soon as they were finished.

They sat together on the couch, adjusting to the quiet. After a few moments, Booth spoke up. "Bones, thank you. I don't like the fact that you didn't listen to me, but I have to admit that it just might have saved my life tonight."

"I can't say that I am sorry that I saved your life," she teased. She got serious suddenly. "But there is something I am sorry about. When we talked earlier," she hesitated.

Booth froze, scared that she was going to pull away from him. Desperately, he tried to head her off. "Bones, it's been an emotional night. A lot has happened. It's probably not a great idea to..."

She held up a hand and he quieted. There was no diverting Temperance Brennan when she had her mind set on something and it was imperative for her to share this with Booth. "I need to say this." She fell silent for another few minutes, as the butterflies multiplied in his stomach.

She turned so that she could look at him. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. "I love you." Booth's eyes widened almost comically as he slowly recognized what she was saying. He had been so prepared for her to run from him that it took a minute for him to realize that she was still talking. "I realized that I did not say that to you earlier and I feel that, while my actions are a more reliable manifestation of my feelings for you, that is important that I say the words as well."

Booth stopped her rationalization with a kiss and she found herself responding fervently. Her mind touched on the fact that the heightened levels of adrenaline from their brush with death added an edge to their physical desires that had not been present earlier. Quickly however, she found her brain stilled as they shared a multitude of kisses, their hands wandering and exploring until one of Booth's hands brushed against her bandaged torso. He quickly pulled back, both of them breathless and flushed.

He was elated as he saw the desire and love in her eyes, something he had long before abandoned hope of ever seeing. But he also saw fatigue there as well. Standing up, he offered her his hand to help her to her feet.

"Let's get some sleep," he said and, holding her tight against him, they made their way to the bedroom for the second time that night. They settled in with her resting her head on his chest, his hand stroking her arm as he waited for her to fall asleep. When she still seemed to be awake after some time, he whispered, "Bones?"

She smiled at the vibrations his voice caused under her cheek. "Yes Booth?" she replied.

He hesitated, unsure what he wanted to say. There was so much swirling around his head and his heart, there was so much he wanted her to know. "I am just so thankful that you are here with me. And I keep thinking about that 'event' during your surgery, how we lost you for 42 seconds." His voice caught. "I don't ever want to experience anything like that again."

Caught in a web of warmth and contentment, she responded without thinking, "It felt longer than that."

Booth looked down at the top of her head, puzzled at her response. "What felt longer?"

Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. "It's nothing," she replied softly. She suspected he wouldn't let it go at that and she was right. He gently moved out from under her so that he could look in her eyes.

"Bones, did you...? What happened during the surgery?" he asked.

She felt like she was at war with herself. It was not in her nature to share any moments of self-doubt, but she knew that a large component of relationships was sharing pieces of oneself. She had made a commitment to herself to be more open to try to avoid the same fate as Lauren Eames, but it felt distinctly unnatural. She looked at him and took a deep breath. If she couldn't trust him, there was no one she could trust.

"I had what I believe people colloquially refer as a near-death experience." She couldn't look him in the eye, the pain of that memory was so raw. Her whole face felt tense as she tried to hold back the emotions.

Booth said carefully, "You sound disappointed."

Still avoiding his eyes, she replied, "Well, I know that it was merely a distorted perception manufactured by my brain. But it would have been nice if it had been real."

"What makes you think it wasn't real?"

"Booth, while unproven, the scientific hypotheses behind near-death experiences make a lot more sense than the alternative," she replied in her patented Brennan 'science answers all' voice.

Booth knew he wasn't going to win a theology versus science argument with her tonight. He wasn't even sure that was what really mattered. So he asked, "What did you see?"

She hesitated, then responded softly, "My mother."

"Oh, Bones."

"But it wasn't real." Booth's heart broke at how lonely she sounded. "It was just my brain misinterpreting signals in reaction to imminent death."

He thought for a minute and then asked, "Does it matter?" She looked at him trying to ascertain whether he was being serious or not. "How did you feel while it was happening?"

She smiled, almost involuntarily. "Happy and calm. It was like when I was little and I scraped my knee. She always made it feel better."

Booth nodded. "Moms do that. So, whatever the reason behind your experience, you had these great feelings during it." He touched her face, making sure she was looking at him. "You got to see your mom, Bones. And you got to have her see you, to see this smart, beautiful, courageous woman you have become. It was a gift."

She bit her lip for a moment before her face crumpled in tears. "I miss her so much," was all she was able to get out before the sobs overtook her. Booth took her in his arms and held her as she let out all the pain and loneliness that had accumulated since her parents had left her without a word. His own eyes filled with tears as he wondered how many nights she had felt this pain all by herself. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head just to let her know that she wasn't alone, that she would never have to be alone again.

Eventually, she quieted and still he held her. He was beginning to wonder if she had dozed off when she spoke. Quietly and slowly, she began to recount to him tales from her childhood. She told him of family traditions and of secrets she had shared with her mother, of how she could even now remember the sound of her mom's laughter at the jokes her dad would tell.

There were often long periods of silence as she wandered through the paths of her childhood memories. She had kept them locked away, even from herself, for so long, but now everything seemed to want to spill out. She spoke of the smell of her mom's perfume, the feel of her hair.

Booth let her talk throughout the night, asking a few questions now and then, but by and large letting her lead the conversation. Finally, as the light of dawn began to creep through the window, they fell asleep, secure in each other's arms.


	12. Internal Battles

Booth woke after only a few hours of sleep, his body too accustomed to waking early to let him sleep. He looked over at the sleeping face of his partner (his girlfriend?) and was overwhelmed at the trust she had bestowed upon him. She had shared pieces of her history with him before, but last night had been such an outpouring of emotion and so many stories about her mother, who had always been a taboo subject.

He looked at the time, realizing that he would have to wake her soon to take her antibiotics. Sighing, he snuggled next to her thinking they could grab just a few more minutes. As he held her body close to his, he noticed that she was shaking in her sleep. He held her tighter until a minute later she started awake, gasping. She looked frantically around, relaxing just a bit when she saw Booth's calm face next to her. He didn't ask any questions, as she laid her head back down on his chest, taking some time to let her heartbeat return to normal.

From that point on, they had a normal morning. He made breakfast for them and they shared a quiet few hours reading the Sunday paper and talking about inconsequential things. Brennan was struck by the normalcy of the whole thing; well, not normal for her, but she was under the impression that this was what many people felt was normal and desirable. She had to admit that it was quite pleasant, having someone to reassure her when she woke from a nightmare, having someone excitedly pointing out a comic strip that just had to be read (even though she didn't get the popular reference that made up the punchline).

Early afternoon brought a string of visitors, starting with Caroline Julian. She gave Brennan a big hug, careful to be gentle. "You are a sight for sore eyes, cherie. I thanked God on my knees for your recovery."

Brennan patted the prosecutor's shoulder awkwardly. "Thank you. It is very gratifying to be able to see you as well."

Caroline's voice hardened as she swung her gaze to Booth. "And you, what were you thinking? All that drama last night and you didn't call me! I had to hear it through channels?"

Booth shifted a bit. "Caroline, I had some other stuff on my mind." His eyes touched on Brennan and he tensed involuntarily, remembering the fear he had felt when he heard the gun go off. Caroline followed the body language and suddenly noticed the subtle relief of tension between the two partners. Her eyes sparkled.

"I guess you did at that, cherie." Before the two could confirm or, more likely, deny anything, she continued, "I wanted to give you an update. Obviously, Stillwell is not talking, but we are combing through his department with a fine-toothed comb and believe we are close to rounding up the last of these degenerates."

She stayed and chatted a while longer before taking her leave to allow the partners to rest. Soon after she left, however, Angela and Jack showed up, having heard about the story on the news. They also fielded phone calls from Cam and Sweets. After them came Max. It seemed that everyone needed to reassure themselves that Brennan was alive and well.

Max was particularly grim as he pulled Booth aside before leaving. "You should have just called me, you know."

Booth gave him a look. "That was never going to happen and you know it."

"Booth, that man gave the order to have Tempe killed and then he showed up to finish the job."

Booth nodded. "And now he will pay the price."

Max let out a hollow laugh. "We'll see, won't we?" Having beaten the system himself, Max was not entirely willing to trust it.

Once everyone had gone, Booth and Brennan had a leisurely afternoon. They talked and laughed and spent time in companionable silence until dinner time when they ordered in Thai. Throughout the afternoon though, Brennan found her mind returning repeatedly, and unbidden, to the events of the past couple of weeks: the ambush in the school, her shooting and abduction, and the invasion of her home. She felt icy cold inside when she thought about how close she had come to losing the one person in the world that she was convinced that she couldn't live without. Survive, yes; without Booth, she could survive and exist. But over the past years as his partner and his friend, she had discovered that she hadn't really been living before.

The fear she had felt for herself was nothing compared to the terror when she realized that his life was in danger. She saw guns every time she closed her eyes: guns shooting at her, pointed at him. But she buried these feelings as she sought to reassure herself and Booth that all was normal now. Because it should be normal; they had caught the bad guy. This was the time for celebration.

They slept together again that night, Booth holding her gently.

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The next week passed slowly for Brennan. Booth had to return to work, although he managed to stop by at lunchtime every day. While she was medically prohibited from returning to work for another week, he would bring results from her interns' work to review each afternoon. When he came home in the evening, he took the files away from her and returned them to the lab in the morning. She spent most of her mornings trying to write. Her work was hindered by the distracting thoughts that still plagued her, however often she reminded herself that there was nothing left to fear.

Tuesday night, he came home with good news. "They had Stillwell's bail hearing today."

She tried to ignore the increased beating of her heart that occurred whenever she heard his name. "Judging by the smile on your face, he was denied bail."

"Oh yeah." Booth's face got serious suddenly. "The death of a federal agent allows them to bring the charge of first degree murder. That means no bail."

She stood and walked over to him. Putting a hand on his cheek, she said, "I'm sorry. I know that you feel the loss of your fellow agent intensely."

Covering her hand with his own, he shook his head at her. "It's not your fault, Bones. You know that right?"

She smiled at him, not trusting herself to speak.

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Neither of them talked about what their newfound emotional and physical intimacy meant for them. With her still recuperating, Booth just kept returning to her apartment. She had cleared a drawer and some closet space for him to keep some things. They both knew that at some point they would have to make concrete plans about where this was going, but both were content to put that off for the time being.

Thursday night they were making plans for Friday. She had not left the apartment all week but was scheduled for a followup visit to the doctor the next morning. Parker was off school for the day due to a teacher in-service day. Booth was proposing that they spend the day together.

"Come on, Bones. Some fresh air will do you good. The weatherman said tomorrow should be in the 50s. We can get Parker, swing by your doctors, and then go to the park."

The idea of a normal type of day was appealing, Brennan decided. "That sounds wonderful, but why don't you go pick Parker up and I'll go to the doctors myself? We can meet at the park afterward."

"Bones, you can't drive until the doctor gives you the okay."

"I can take a cab. It's no fair to Parker to make him sit in a doctor's office on his day off."

In the end, Booth agreed, provided he could pick her up from the doctor's. So the following morning, he kissed her and set off to get his son. "Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" he asked, standing by the door while she was still running back and forth getting ready to leave.

She looked up from where she was searching her purse for an imaginary item, just wishing he would leave. "No, Booth. I'm fine. You go ahead."

He looked at her intently, trying to ascertain what was going on in her head. Something was bothering her, she seemed nearly manic in her preparations. "Are you worried about what the doctor is going to say?"

She took a deep breath and smiled at him, willing her tense muscles to relax. She should have known that she couldn't hide her anxiety, but he had just given her the perfect out. She forced herself to laugh lightly. "Yeah, I guess I am a bit. If he doesn't give me the okay to get back to work officially, I think I might go a little stir crazy."

Booth walked back over to her and put his arms around her. "There's no reason to think he won't. You're recovering exactly like they said you would."

"You're right, I'm being irrational," she replied. "You go on though, you don't want to keep Parker waiting."

He couldn't resist giving her one last kiss and then was on his way. As soon as the door closed behind him, she sagged. She hated misleading him, but if he knew what she was really afraid of he would insist on going with her. All night her dreams had centered on the panicky, claustrophobic feeling she had felt in the elevators after her release from the hospital. She was determined to prove to herself that she had overcome this. After all, if she needed Booth by her side every time she took an elevator, it would severely restrict her movements.

Waiting about five minutes, until she could be sure that he would be gone, she gathered up her things and headed out the door. Her hand hesitated over the doorknob, adrenaline flooding her system as her body remembered the events that occurred the last time she had done this. Shaking off the irrational reaction, she opened the door and walked through and down the hall to the elevator. Pressing the down button, she waited, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through her system.

Stepping onto the elevator car, she tried to push the button for the lobby. Her hand was shaking and no matter how she willed it, she couldn't seem to make contact with the button. The doors started to close automatically and without even realizing she was doing it, she slipped through before they closed and found herself standing back in the hallway. Furious at giving in to her own weakness, she walked to the stairwell door and began making her way slowly down the stairs. While she had been increasing her activity slowly over the past few days, she still found the walk down several flights to be draining.

The doorman looked up as she walked through the lobby. "Ah, Dr. Brennan. Can I say that it is wonderful to see you up and about. We were all pulling for you."

She forced a smile on her face. "Thank you so much. It was kind of you to think of me."

He indicated the car outside. "Your cab just pulled up. Would you like any assistance?"

"No, thank you." She walked outside, stopping just past the door, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. Straightening her back against the wave of fear crashing over her, she moved toward the cab. As she approached the curb, she became aware of people moving around her. Pieces of memory from that morning flashed before her eyes and she misjudged the curb, tripping forward, only just catching herself on a nearby parked car.

The cabbie hurried out of his car and put a hand under her elbow, helping to steady her. "You all right? Let me help in to the car."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp, her eyes flashing. "I am fine, thank you," she said icily, trying to cover her embarrassment.

The man shrugged and got back into the car. You just couldn't please some people.

The car ride was difficult. The ride home from the hospital in Angela's van had been disorienting, but this car was much smaller and felt more closer around her. She stared out of the window the whole ride, trying to concentrate on reality: she was fine, riding in a car just like she had been so many times before.

All the same, it was with a profound sense of relief that she exited the cab and entered the office building. The relief was short lived as she immediately remembered that the office was on the third floor. Not even willing to attempt the elevator by this time, she headed to the stairs. As she slowly made her way up the three flights, exhaustion forcing her to take breaks at each landing, she tried reminding herself that Stillwell had been arrested, that her shooter had been arrested, and that nothing was being accomplished by giving in to her fears.

The appointment was uneventful, just as Booth had predicted. The doctor removed the final stitches and gave her the okay to return to everyday activities. Brennan smiled and nodded and acted appreciative as he seemed to expect, all the while reflecting that normal activity was not nearly within the realm of possibility for her at this point.

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She hurried as fast as she dared down the stairwell, wanting to avoid any awkward questions from Booth as to why she wasn't taking the elevator. Luck was on her side and she made it to the entrance just as he pulled up. She waved to him to go ahead and stay in the car and walked out, feeling somewhat more relaxed in the roomier SUV. She shared the good news from the doctor, then fell silent.

Parker was his usual smiling and energetic self, talking nonstop about his latest science classes and recess adventures with equal enthusiasm. At the park, Brennan, not untruthfully, claimed fatigue and sat on a bench watching the two Booths kick a ball around, smiling and laughing. She bit her lip, feeling strangely and irrevocably separated from that type of carefree joy.

By the time Booth and Parker had finished their game, she had become somewhat accustomed to this disjointed mix of fear and detachment, at least enough to plaster a smile on her face as they headed to the diner. By the time they arrived and took their places at their usual table, she felt that frozen wall begin to thaw. Dozens of tiny things were chipping away at them: the trust in Parker's eyes as he asked for her advice on his upcoming science fair project; the way Booth nudged his plate just a little closer to her so that she could snag his fries more easily; the laughter that wove around her and pulled her in, almost despite herself.

As the two Booths were finishing up their pie, the younger suddenly asked the questions he had been steeling himself for all meal. "Dad, you're spending the night at Dr. Bones' place, right?"

"Yeah, Bub," Booth answered carefully, unsure where this was going.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Booth hesitated, afraid to say the wrong thing. They hadn't really spoken about what labels applied to their particular situation. He looked at Bones, trying to judge how freaked out she was by the question. He was surprised to see a timid warmth in her eyes as she looked back at him. She found she was surprised at her reaction as well, but given the emotional roller coaster she was currently experiencing, she probably shouldn't be. All she knew was that after all the fears of the morning, it was once again Booth who provided the sense of stability and comfort.

She had known all week that he would need a label for this and she could respect that. Labels helped to define the parameters of the relationship. She saw the fear in his eyes and suspected that he was afraid she would run from this simple question, just like she had run that night at the Hoover. Instead, she just smiled at him to go ahead and answer as he saw fit.

Smiling broadly, he nodded. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend." He looked at Parker, trying to gauge his reaction.

The boy's smile mirrored his father's. "Cool!" he exclaimed and went back to slurping up the melted ice cream that he had gotten with his pie. Booth and Brennan smiled at each other across the table, each a little excited at the official title they had just assumed.

They dropped Parker off at Rebecca's and returned to Brennan's apartment. With Booth beside her this time, and plenty of deep breaths and focus exercises, she tolerated the short elevator ride up to her floor. As they walked into her apartment, she yawned, the fatigue of the day really settling in.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Booth suggested.

She smiled shyly at him. "You know, the doctor did say that I am cleared for _all_ activity. And now that we've made it official, maybe we should make it _official_?" They had been so restrained in their physical interactions due to her injuries that she was experiencing an above average sense of frustration and she was sure that he must be as well. Additionally, the physical release would help to alleviate some of the stress that had built up throughout the day.

Booth gulped as he saw the look in her eyes, flirtatious and lustful. Pushing aside the heat that surged through him at her suggestion, he shook his head and removed her hands from where they had begun unbuttoning his shirt. "Bones, you are about to fall over from exhaustion."

She pulled back, hurt. "You don't want to?"

He kissed her deeply, pulling her toward him. When they separated after a minute, he caught his breath and said, "I think you can tell how much I want to." She smiled and nodded, the evidence of his desire was not lost on her. "I have taken an extraordinary number of cold showers this week and, after you go to nap, I will probably be taking another one." She looked as if she wanted to say something, but he held up a hand. "But you are exhausted and still healing. We don't need to rush anything, and I'm certainly not going to make love to you for the first time as you are getting ready for a nap."

Making a frustrated sound, even as she acknowledged the sense in his decision, she leaned in for one more kiss, running her hands down his chest. As she felt him shiver under her touch, she pulled away with a grin. "How do you feel about after a nap?"

Booth's eyes were dark with desire as he forcibly pulled away from her before changing his mind. "Go rest and then we'll see." There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her and holding her each night had been what she needed this week, but he couldn't say it had been easy. But he knew that he wanted their first time to be spectacular and amazing, he wanted to truly make love to her, and he would wait until the time was right.

True to his word, he jumped in for a cold shower followed by about 50 push-ups once she had disappeared into her bedroom. He then occupied himself going over the backlog of paperwork that he was still wading through from spending the week with her in the hospital.

Brennan slept for about an hour, physical exhaustion beating out anxiety dreams for the time being. When she woke, she luxuriated in her first real shower for almost two weeks. After indulging in some pampering, she walked out to find Booth working at the kitchen table. Leaning against the doorway, she took some time to just observe him. She had always considered an extremely attractive man; she could name all the elements of his physique that made him a desirable mate. But looking at him now, her feelings toward him seemed to extend beyond that quantifiable matrix.

She walked up behind him and slid her arms around his neck, resting her cheek next to his. She inhaled his scent as she rubbed her hands down his chest. Turning her head, she nibbled lightly on his ear, eliciting a groan as he put down his pen and turned to meet her lips with his. After a minute, he pulled back, gasping.

"Are you sure?"

"Booth, I have high expectations for this encounter. Believe me, when I tell you that I am certain I am up to the task."

That was all he needed to hear. Standing up, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

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Some time later found them laying lazily tangled together, Booth laying on his side as he lovingly watched the emotions playing over her face. Based on the wonder in her eyes, he believed that he had achieved his objective: to show her that sex is more than just the physical act. The connection that they had made was profound and he wanted to give her time to process the new data.

Brennan glanced up at him from half-closed eyes as she reflected on this new experience in her relationship with Booth. Their lovemaking had certainly been well beyond satisfactory as she had always anticipated it being, but there had been something else, something on a non-physical level that she was having trouble describing. At several points, she had looked at him and felt almost trapped within his eyes, that their minds were touching directly and what was happening between their bodies was irrelevant. This level of emotional vulnerability should make her want to run, should make her put up her walls and find a reason for him to leave rather than allowing him to observe her with that soft, loving expression. But as always, he gave her strength, even if it was the strength to let him in. She smiled tentatively, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek. Then, still silent, she turned on her side, pulling his hand over her waist, and they fell asleep together.


	13. Steps to Healing

The weekend passed quietly as they explored their new level of intimacy. While Booth was more than happy to indulge in a mini-'staycation', he was surprised and a little concerned that Brennan wasn't suggesting any activities outside the apartment. After two weeks of enforced confinement, he had expected to have to divert her from insisting on going in to the lab right away or otherwise over-exerting herself. And while he was taking full advantage of this time they had, something told him that he was not the only reason she wasn't leaving the apartment.

For her part, she certainly had many legitimate, and enjoyable, reasons to stay inside, but she had to admit that she found herself chilled every time she thought of leaving. She knew that Booth had noticed her behavior and she was thankful that he wasn't pushing the issue, especially as she had no rational explanation for her reaction. She set her sights on Monday when she would return to work. Engaging in normal routines and activities would surely help to alleviate the stress and fear surrounding her.

However much hope she tried to pin on returning to work, Sunday night found sleep eluding her. She lay quietly, trying not to disturb Booth, sleeping soundly next to her, an arm holding her firmly even in his sleep. Her eyes roamed the room restlessly, feeling the unsettling sense of indifference as she looked at the familiar objects. She had not realized how far Booth had come over the past few years in breaking down her sense of detachment until this new development. But this was no mere objectivity, nor was it voluntary, and that scared her much more than she wanted to admit. She felt an invisible wall building around her and she did not know how to break it down.

In the stillness, she could hear Booth breathing softly and deeply. Pressing down the sense of panic that was building, she concentrated on those breaths as if they were providing her oxygen. She pulled his arm tighter around her, breathing with him. He was the only thing that penetrated this wall or the fog of the panic when it set in. The level of her need for him was frightening to her. But even more frightening was that she doubted for the first time that she could be an equal partner for him.

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Monday morning found Brennan once more trying to delay long enough that Booth would consider leaving first. However, he simply lounged around as she kept adding and removing things from her bag.

"Why don't you go ahead, Booth? I don't know how long I'll be," she suggested.

He looked at her, the anxiety painting her movements, and shook his head. "I don't have any pressing engagements this morning. Not in a real hurry to do paperwork. I was thinking maybe I could drive you in this morning and then we could grab lunch together later." He wanted to make sure he had a reason to check on her throughout the day.

She hesitated, chewing on her lip. She recognized the look on his face. Despite his deceptively relaxed posture, he wasn't budging. She threw the last of her things into her bag and grabbed her coat. "Okay, let's go. But we're taking my car."

Booth shrugged and followed her out the door. As they walked down the hallway, he grabbed her hand in his. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped in, she automatically following. He turned to face her as the doors closed, holding her eyes with his. He didn't say anything for the short ride down to the garage, but she felt herself lost in this connection with him rather than the panic she had anticipated. Before she knew it, the doors were open again and they were walking to her car.

As they pulled up to the Hoover, Booth leaned over to kiss Brennan's cheek. "You sure you want to drop me off? I could ride over to the lab with you and catch a cab back," he offered.

"No, Booth. That would be unnecessary effort," came her reply. "Besides," she added honestly, "I will enjoy the time on my own."

He stepped out of the car and leaned down to smile at her through the window. He added, "Don't forget to come get me for lunch!"

She smiled and drove away.

Once she arrived at the lab, she eagerly walked in, ready to enjoy the comfort of a familiar workspace. She put her things in her office quickly and then returned to the main floor to check in with her colleagues and interns.

"Surprise!" A chorus of voices greeted her as she stepped out into the main lab. She looked around in astonishment. In just the few moments she had stepped into her office, plates of bagels and cream cheese, doughnuts, and fruit had appeared, as well as all of her colleagues.

Angela hurried to her, pulling her into a big hug. "Welcome back, sweetie." Cam and Hodgins approached her with effusive greetings, and everyone else with cordial pleasantries praising her quick recovery. She took a plate of food and spent some time socializing with her lab mates. After about 15 minutes, Cam rallied the troops back to work.

Brennan walked over to Angela. "Thank you for all this," she indicated the mini-feast they had shared.

"Oh, sweetie. We're just all so glad you're okay and back with us." Angela grabbed her best friend in another hug. When she pulled away, she was wiping some tears from her cheeks. She laughed, trying to defuse the tension. "Besides, any excuse to have a doughnut!"

"It means a lot to know you care, Ange," Brennan forced herself to open up just a little bit.

"Always," she replied seriously. Angela stepped back. "Let me look at you, see how your recovery is going." She looked Brennan up and down and a puzzled look crossed her face. It was quickly followed by a look of excited recognition. "Oh my god. You and Booth?"

Brennan faltered, unprepared for the revelation of her relationship with Booth. "I, uh..."

"Don't even try to deny it. You've got a lot going on, but I still recognize that look. That is the look that only comes from a good man."

Brennan felt the flush spreading across her face. Angela grinned but quickly relented. "You can tell me all about it later. But right now, it's time you to get back to work."

Grateful for the temporary reprieve, she nodded to her friend. Moving from station to station in the lab, she took her time reacquainting herself with the current projects. She checked in with each of her interns, providing feedback and direction. She consulted with her colleagues. After being satisfied that she was up to date on the current activities in the lab, she retired to her office to review her emails and check up on her paperwork.

Brennan sat in front of her computer, clicking through her accumulated emails. However, she found herself reading through email after email and then realizing that she hadn't retained any of the relevant data. Frustrated, she turned to developing an action plan to get her caught up. The longer she sat there, the more anxious she became. A feeling of foreboding settled around her. She fidgeted in her chair, looking up at the walls of her office, making sure that the door was open. But no matter what she tried to do, she found her breaths becoming quicker and shallower, her mind clouded and foggy. Finally, with a frustrated grunt, she pushed back from her desk, grabbed her coat and purse and stalked out into the main lab. As soon as she was in the high-ceilinged open area, her breathing slowed. Still shaking, furious with herself, she walked toward the exit. As she passed the platform, she could almost feel Hodgins' puzzled look, and she said, "Early lunch," in as calm a voice as she could muster.

She was so focused on getting out of the door that she didn't notice the figure on the other side as she passed through.

Hannah had not wanted to go into the lab. Her last encounter with Angela had been unpleasant and she wasn't eager for a repeat performance. She was hovering just outside the entrance to the lab, trying to decide whether she should call Temperance or just walk in and hope to avoid her angry friends. As she hesitated, the object of her thoughts strode past her in a flurry.

"Temperance!" she called.

It took a few more steps before the call settled into Brennan's consciousness. Stopping abruptly, she turned around and saw Hannah standing next to the door, a large duffel bag at her feet. Still rattled, she found herself feeling distinctly unhappy to see her, but still forced a smile onto her face as she reluctantly walked back to the entrance.

"Hello, Hannah."

Hannah smiled her big smile. "I'm so glad to see you're doing better. I mean, I heard you were out of the hospital and then that guy went after you." She shook her head. "I can't believe this turned out to be so crazy. Thank god it's all over, huh?"

Brennan stared at the blonde, unsure what she should say, even what she wanted to say. She had been trying to tell herself that it was over for days now, and yet she had just fled her office, unable to breathe or to think.

Hannah chattered on. "I am sorry that all this happened." She smiled in that cajoling manner that had worked so well on Temperance in the past, but got no response other than a puzzled look. "Anyway, I, um, just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

"Where are you going?" Brennan forced herself to ask, trying to feel like she was a part of this conversation.

"Egypt. I've asked to be transferred back to international news. The domestic stuff is just not my style, you know?" She winked and laughed, then bent down to pick up her bag. "So you take care, okay?" And then she was gone, strolling down the sidewalk.

Brennan stood there for a few minutes, replaying their interaction in her head. How did Hannah seem so normal when nearly every minute of her own days seemed fraught with confusion and fear?

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Brennan drove white-knuckled over to the Hoover, barely noticing as the streets rolled past. Her mind remained on how back to normal Hannah had seemed. What was wrong with her that she couldn't find that normalcy, that balance as easily?

She parked and walked into the building and automatically headed for the elevator and, at the last minute, pressed the button for Sweets' floor instead of Booth's.

Sweets was at his desk, making notes on his last session when his door flew open. He looked up to see Brennan enter. Slamming the folder closed, he exclaimed, "For the love of... Just once, couldn't you...?" he trailed off as he noticed the look on her face. "Dr. Brennan, are you okay?" He got up and hurried around the desk to the sitting area, gesturing for her to take a seat as well.

She shook her head and leaned against the now closed door. Her face was pale and her hands shaking as she tucked them behind her back. When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically plaintive. "Fix it."

"Fix what," he asked.

She gestured frantically from head to toe. "This. Me." She pushed away from the door and began pacing between the desk and the door. "This is supposed to be over. He's in jail. Why am I still feeling this way? What is wrong with me?"

Sweets was floored by her behavior. He had expected that she would require assistance in dealing with recent events but had not anticipated her showing up here. He took it as a sign of how much pain she was in that she was willing to turn to 'soft science' for answers. Her agitation was worrisome.

"Dr. Brennan, what you're experiencing is perfectly normal given the circumstances of the past few weeks."

"No, Sweets, it's not and it can't go on like this. Booth needs someone stronger, someone equal."

Sweets shook his head, confused. "I've read the file, Dr. Brennan. The night Stilwell broke in, you performed admirably; you saved Booth's life. He has shown no reservations about continuing to work with you. If you need some time before you go back out in the field, we can make that happen, but Booth is ready as soon as you are."

Brennan huffed impatiently. "Not professionally."

"If not professionally, then..." Sweets eyes widened and a grin flashed across his face. "You mean you and Agent Booth finally admitted you have feelings for each other?"

"Yes, we have consummated our romantic relationship. Why is everyone so concerned with this?"

"Right, right. So, you're afraid that if you let Booth know how deeply this has affected you, he... What? He'll leave you?"

"He needs someone stronger, someone like Hannah."

"Hannah?" Where had that come from?

"Yes. She is dealing with this quite well." Brennan finally sat down on the couch. "She's fine, she's... she's off to the Middle East and right back into her life. Meanwhile, I can't even sit in my office without feeling like all the oxygen is being sucked out of the room. I'm weak, Sweets. Why would Booth want that?"

Sweets sat back, taking a deep breath. It never rained, but it poured. The number of issues she was dumping on his lap in one fell swoop was extraordinary.

"Wait, where'd you hear about Hannah going to the Middle East?"

"She told me."

"She told you? You talked to her?"

"Yes, she came by the Jeffersonian this morning to apologize. And to say goodbye."

A sound of disbelief as Sweets shook his head. "That was entirely inadvisable." He found himself wondering what color the sky was in Hannah's world. Probably Hannah colored, he answered himself. How could she have thought it was a good idea to talk to Brennan?

Brennan shrugged her shoulders. "She is completely fine, Sweets."

"Yeah, because she was never in any actual danger. The threat was always directed at you. Of course she can walk away without a second glance. To her, this was a minor inconvenience."

"That still doesn't explain why I'm behaving like this. I've been in life-threatening situations before, I've been... traumatized. I've always been strong, before this."

"No, you haven't been strong." He held up a hand to stop her protest. "You've seemed strong, you've felt strong. But since your parents left, I don't think you've actually dealt with anything. Your parents left, Russ left, you were moved into foster care; your entire support network vanished. So instead of talking these experiences out and dealing with them, you compartmentalized and put them each into their tiny box and shoved them away to a back corner of your mind."

He rushed on to forestall her inevitable protest. "Now, that worked for you. It was the best coping mechanism available to you and it has served you well. But something's changed over the last few years. You've developed a new support network. And you've begun to open up and to depend on us. You've lost some of that ability to compartmentalize and some of the older walls have started to come down. So now this trauma is actually bringing back some of the older ones that you never had a chance to deal with before."

She hated to admit that he was making some valid points regarding her behavior. She hated even more that she wanted him to continue. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and looked up at him. "So what do I do? I can't function like this."

Sweets sighed. "You get help."

"You mean counseling?"

He nodded. "That's one suggestion. But I would also advise that you take advantage of those people around you who care about you. I take it you haven't spoken with Booth about this?"

"No, I can't, Sweets. What if he," the words caught in her throat, terror at him finding her lacking forcing a brief gasp.

"He won't. Whatever it is you're afraid of, him leaving, being angry, turning on you, I guarantee you he won't do it. He understands you a lot better than you think he does. But what he needs is for you to trust him, to trust your relationship."

She nodded hesitantly. Sweets continued. "But I am serious about you getting some therapy, both about the recent events and maybe some of the things that happened when you were younger."

Her face set in the stubborn look Sweets was all too familiar with. He quickly jumped in before she could verbalize her protest. "Just try it. You can always stop if you feel that it's not helping you."

She thought about what he was saying and about her reluctance to engage. She thought about the counselors that the foster system had constantly put in front of her, to whom she had been just a case number, a file to clear off their desks. She looked back at Sweets, who was quietly awaiting her response. He was annoying and bizarrely childish in many ways, but he seemed so earnest and compassionate. And if she were to talk to someone, better it be someone who was already afraid of her.

She nodded slightly and his eyes brightened. Before he could get too carried away, she cautioned, "This still doesn't mean that I believe in psychology. I am just willing to try talking to you and I like that fact that you are bound by confidentiality."

Sweets nodded seriously, even though inside he was doing cartwheels. He really believed he might be able to help her. Pain was often a great motivator and she was in a great deal of pain at the moment.

"So, let's set something up. How about Wednesdays around 11? You can come by and then you and Booth can go get lunch."

"I will be here." She stood up and prepared to leave when she realized that nothing had actually changed from when she had walked in. "But what do I do in the meantime? I am finding it nearly impossible to function adequately to fulfill my obligations."

Sweets looked at her sympathetically. He knew that everyone else would be more than willing to relax their expectations of her and that the obligations she felt were entirely internal. But for the time being, that was what he had to deal with.

"Dr. Brennan, if I could say a magic word or give you a pill that would take all of this away, I would. In an instant. But I can't. The best I can do is to give you some advice." She looked unhappy but nodded for him to continue. "Two things. First, tell Booth how you are feeling. He probably knows more than you think he does already, but he's not going to approach you about it. He wants you to feel strong and capable and would never point out a perceived weakness. But sharing it will help to alleviate some of the burden. Second, it's trite, but when you feel the panic spiralling out of control, go to your happy place."

She looked at him blankly. "I don't know what that means."

Sweets nodded. not surprised. "Try to think of a place or image that you find soothing or calming. It can be a memory, a place, a person, something real or imagined. Then when you feel panicky, you think of that image and concentrate on the calm feelings it evokes. For instance, if you are feeling claustrophobic, often concentrating on the image of a beach or the Grand Canyon is found to be helpful when you are in a tight space."

She looked at the psychologist disapprovingly. "Sweets, this is exactly why I don't like psychology. I prefer my mind to function in concert with reality, not to try to convince myself of something contrary to reality."

"I agree that this something very unusual for you, Dr. Brennan. But you have to understand that right now, your brain is not cooperating with you. I would recommend doing both of these, but it's up to you."

She searched her mind as she took the stairs up to Booth's floor. A happy, soothing image or memory, especially one that would help her to counter the claustrophobic panic that had been threatening to control her for the past week or so. She kept coming up blank.

Booth looked up as she entered his office. He smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey, I was sure I was going to have to call and remind you about lunch!" He paused when he saw her abnormally pale complexion. "Bones, what's wrong? Come in and sit down."

She took a seat and looked at him pensively. "I talked to Sweets," she said, only raising her voice slightly above a whisper. She was apprehensive about Booth's reaction, both to her talking to the young psychologist and also to what she had talked to him about.

Booth relaxed a bit. "Good," he said.

Her confusion showed on her face. "Good?" she repeated.

Booth nodded. "Bones, you've been through something and you need to talk about it. I may give the kid a hard time, but I wouldn't keep going to him for help on cases if I didn't think he knew what he was doing." He reconsidered. "At least most of the time."

She pouted. "Great," she grumbled.

"What's wrong?"

"Sweets was right. He told me that you already knew that something was wrong." Booth just kind of shrugged. "He also said you wouldn't say anything to me about it if I didn't bring it up."

Booth winced at the underlying accusatory tone, but nodded. "He's right. I probably wouldn't have brought it up."

"But why not?" she demanded.

Sighing, Booth thought about how to best phrase his response. He knew how much she hated being protected or 'handled' and wasn't sure that she would understand his better intentions. "You weren't ready to deal with it yet. You needed everyone to believe that you were doing just fine, so I let you put on a brave face."

She looked at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words.

He continued. "I've seen a lot of people go through all kinds of trauma. Sometimes that brave face is all that we have left to hold on to afterward, in that time before we can ask for help. We just pretend that it's all okay and if that's what you needed to do, then that's what I wanted to help you do."

She looked away as she felt her eyes filling with tears. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I was afraid."

"That's natural, Bones. Anyone would be."

"No," she cut him off. "Not of what happened. Well, that too I suppose. But I was more afraid that if you knew how I was reacting to all of this, how weak I am..." She looked down and then forced herself to meet his warm brown eyes. "I was afraid that you wouldn't want me anymore."

"Never." The vehemence in his voice took her by surprise. He paused a moment to allow the anger he was feeling to settle. The anger at all the people who had deserted and betrayed her in the past: her parents, Russ, Stires, even Sully. All the people who had contributed to this beautiful, intelligent, stimulating woman feeling like there was something defective about her, that she would always chase away those close to her.

He got out of his chair and pulled the second guest chair up so he was sitting right in front of her. Taking her hands in one of his, he used the other to wipe away the few tears that had escaped down her cheeks. "I love you. I have loved you for a very long time and I have seen all the parts of you, even the ones you think you keep hidden. I know you're having a hard time dealing with all of this and it doesn't make you any less in my eyes. Because I know that you are going to get through this and you will come out stronger for it. And I want to be with you every step of the way, helping you in any way that I can."

Her tears began to fall in earnest now. She couldn't form any words, but looked in his eyes for a moment, trying to convey how much she loved and appreciated him. Then she leaned in, put her head on his shoulder, and let him hold her as she cried.


	14. The New Normal

A knock on the office door interrupted them shortly. Brennan pulled back, fighting an underlying sense of embarrassment that she was certain Booth would tell her was unwarranted. She kept her face averted from the door as Booth quickly signed off on whatever was being presented to him. He turned back to her, a wry look on his face.

"I'm sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. You're at work. And speaking of which, I should be getting back myself."

Booth folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "You're going to eat something."

"Booth, I've already taken more time than I should. They probably don't even know where I am. I think I said something to Hodgins as I was leaving, but I didn't even notice if he heard me."

Booth laughed as he went back to his desk to grab his jacket. "Trust me, he must have heard you. Because if they really didn't know where you were, my phone would be ringing off the hook." He guided her to her feet with a hand under her elbow and pulled her into one last long hug. "We won't take too long, but you do need to eat something. We can eat in the cafeteria downstairs." He felt her nod and kissed the top of her head.

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After a quick bite, Booth walked her back to her car and watched her pull away. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Hey Cam, it's Booth," he said, when she answered.

"Hello. Were you planning on returning our anthropologist any time soon?"

"She's on her way back now. Listen, just don't give her a hard time. She's having a little trouble adjusting."

Cam murmured understandingly. "That's to be expected. I think, given the overtime she's racked up over the years, we can cut her a little slack for a long lunch now and then." Booth could hear the affection and concern hidden underneath her bantering tone.

"She's going to be fine," he said, reassuring his friend as well as himself.

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Jack pulled back from his microscope as he felt his wife hovering behind him. Suppressing a sigh, he turned toward her.

"Are you sure she said she was going to lunch?" Angela had been pacing her own office for the last twenty minutes and was now coming out to share her anxiety.

"Yes," he answered simply, pretending that he hadn't already had this conversation twice. He knew that Angela was even more protective than usual of her friend, given the recent events and the out of control hormones, but if this was what having Brennan back at the lab was going to be like, he wasn't sure he could take it. And they were only halfway through the first day.

"But, it's been kind of long time, you know, for lunch. What if something happened? Maybe we should call Booth."

"Or you could call Brennan," her husband observed dryly.

Angela smiled sheepishly. "I don't want her think I'm checking up on her."

Standing up, he threw an arm around her shoulders. "Everything's fine. Maybe they got called about a case while they were eating."

Cam was walking by as they were talking and overheard. "No case. She's on her way back now." Angela let out a relieved breath and Cam continued. "And you're right, Angela. We can't keep tabs on her every second of the day. And we shouldn't. The last thing she needs right now is us hovering. Let's just let her tell us what she needs, okay?"

Angela nodded. "Well, I guess I'll let us all get back to work then."

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Brennan walked back into the lab. She was just beginning to realize how tired she was. This was the largest extended period of physical activity she had participated in since the shooting. And emotionally, well, the morning had left her emotionally exhausted as well. She hurried in, uncomfortable with her unusually long lunch, despite Booth's assurances to the contrary. She headed straight to Cam's office to make her excuses for her long absence.

"Don't worry about it Dr. Brennan. It's just fine. Let me know if there is anything that you need."

Something in Cam's eyes made Brennan stop. She quirked her mouth. "Booth told you."

Cam's face showed her dismay. "No specifics, I promise. He's just trying to help."

She nodded. "I guess I understand. But please don't say anything to anyone else."

"Of course not."

Brennan turned to go toward her office, but hesitated, remembering her earlier reactions. _A happy place_ , she reminded herself. Her consternation showed in her face, worrying Cam.

"Dr. Brennan, is there something I can do for you right now?"

She shook her head, huffing a sigh. "Sweets told me to think about a happy place when I feel anxious."

Cam nodded her head. "It's always worked for me."

"You knew about this too? Why didn't I ever learn about it?" she griped petulantly.

Cam suppressed a smile. "I guess it just never came up for you. You always seem to handle whatever comes up with great equanimity." She looked at her friend. "Are you having trouble thinking of a happy place?"

Brennan nodded, feeling abashed at her ignorance and lack of progress. "I've been searching my memories, but nothing seems to give me the feeling of well-being that Sweets indicated I should find in it."

"Well, it doesn't have to be an actual memory or even a real, physical location. Just think of what makes you feel good and mash them all together in your mind."

Cam watched as Brennan processed this very imprecise directive. She could see the struggle in her face as she fought past her automatic rejection of this type of advice. Brennan bit her lip, thinking about what made her happiest, what she wanted with her when the panic set in. All she could think of were warm, brown eyes and strong hands supporting her. Booth. The one who had always saved her, who even now was opening up new worlds and new feelings for her. Cam saw the light rise in her eyes. She flashed a smile at her boss and strode back to her office, reinvigorated and energized.

Entering her office without hesitation, she went straight to her desk. Pulling open her top drawer, she pulled out a small figure. Closing her hand around Jasper the pig, she sat in her chair, giving herself a moment to acclimate to the enclosed space. She could hold Booth in her mind, but Jasper gave her something to physically anchor herself in that happy space she found when she was with him. Smiling, she put him down next to her keyboard and addressed her work with new purpose.

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The next few days found her adjusting back to her regular routine. She kept Jasper with her at all times now, and Booth with her at most. While they were not spending every night together, she found that she looked forward to the nights they were together. Previously, she had felt that sharing her living space with someone else would be a hardship and disturbing. Maybe it was only in light of her recent experiences, or maybe it was because it was Booth, but she actually found the experience quite rewarding and found herself looking forward to the nights when they stayed together. She honored her agreement with Sweets and sat with him on Wednesday, an experience she found uncomfortable and which seemed to drag up more negative feelings than to present solutions. However, he assured her that this was a normal part of beginning therapy and that they would work through these issues.

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Thursday afternoon found Angela lounging on Brennan's office couch watching her work.

"So, Bren, we haven't really talked about you and Booth yet."

Brennan looked up from her monitor, startled, to see a devilish smirk on her best friend's face. It was true that Angela had let the matter lie for several days, contrary to her nature. Suddenly feeling like a schoolgirl, she went over and settled on one end of the soft couch, where Angela had drawn her feet up to make room.

Brennan smiled self-consciously. "So what do you want to know, Ange?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "Everything." Remembering how forthcoming and literal Brennan could be, she quickly amended her statement. "I mean: How you guys got together? Is it official? You know, the story."

Brennan chuckled. "You probably know more than I do. You've been pushing me toward this for years." Angela nodded. It had been apparent to her almost from the start that these two belonged together. "But yes, we are now officially a couple." She couldn't stop herself from grinning at the thought.

Angela's expression mirrored Brennan's. "Well, then, we can double date!"

"Well, I guess."

"Great. Tomorrow night: you, Booth, me, and Jack. We'll have dinner at the Founding Fathers."

Brennan nodded. "That sounds acceptable."

They talked for a long time, as Angela probed for details and they discussed all the now obvious signs that Booth had been developing feelings for her for a long time.

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Friday night at the Founding Fathers was busy as usual, but they managed to snag a table without too much hassle. Despite the din and the cramped booths, Brennan found she was able to relax, even feel safe within the protective bubble her friends created with her. Some time later, she and Booth went up to the bar to grab some more drinks. Booth ran into someone he knew and she offered to bring the drinks back to the table while he caught up with his buddy.

As she made her way back between the crush of people, carefully carrying her drink as well as Hodgins', she felt unfamiliar arms snake around her waist. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable and exposed. Booth was back at the bar, Hodgins sitting at the table was only a few feet away but seemed so distant and she couldn't see Angela at all.

Suddenly, the arms were given sound as a drunken voice whispered in her ear. "Hey baby, how's about a dance?"

Still feeling nearly paralyzed with fright, she wrenched herself free. Holding herself as straight as possible, she replied, "No thanks," and began to continue to the table. Again he grabbed at her, this time his hand encasing her upper arm. She turned to look at her assailant. He was tall and might have been good-looking except for the obvious signs of excessive drinking. He appeared to be having a good time and not at all cognizant of the fear he was engendering within her. As she faced him, he grabbed her other arm and started to pull her in toward him to dance. Suddenly, she flashed back to hands picking her up off the sidewalk, stuffing her into the trunk of a car. Her chest felt like it was going to explode for lack of air. She looked frantically around for help.

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Hodgins was looking around when his attention was caught by Brennan's predicament. At first, he sat back to enjoy the show. After all, she had taken down guys much more threatening than some drunk in a bar. It took only a few seconds for him to realize that this wasn't the same old Brennan. She looked terrified. Looking up at the bar, he saw Booth still talking, showing no signs of heading this way anytime soon. Returning his gaze, he saw the drunk pawing at Brennan. If he stepped in now and she didn't want help, as would have been the case for most of the time he had known her, he might lose his job. On the other hand, if he let his best friend's wife be molested right in front of him and did nothing, he would have a very angry, pregnant wife. Shrugging, he realized he didn't actually have a choice.

He stood up and walked the few steps to come even with the pair. Removing the guy's hands from Brennan's arms, he said, "The lady is here with someone. Why don't you just go find someone who's interested?"

"Oh yeah," the taller man snarled. "You gonna make me?"

Hodgins summoned all the anger and rage that used to be his constant companions and focused it at the drunk. He just stood there, not saying a word, staring unwaveringly. The belligerent drunk scoffed at first,thinking this was a case of a guy trying to impress a hot chick, but quickly found himself taking a step back under the weight of Hodgins' gaze.

He shrugged. "Hey man, I just thought she could use a good time. You're welcome to her," he slurred and staggered unevenly away.

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"Are you okay?" Hodgins asked with concern as he led her back to the table.

"Where's Angela?" she replied, stalling for time.

"Bathroom. The baby must be sleeping on her bladder today." He pushed Angela's herbal tea across the table to her and tried to remove the beer bottles from her clenched hands. "Why don't try some of this tea? I'll take these."

She looked down at her hands, remembering for the first time that she was carrying the bottles. They would have been perfect weapons! "I forgot I had these. I should have hit him. I just couldn't..."

She looked up as she trailed off, expecting to see pity in Hodgins' eyes. Instead, she saw compassion and empathy. It occurred to her suddenly that she wasn't just looking at a colleague, or her best friend's husband; she realized that he was a friend, bound to her by common goals and experiences. It was one of those experiences that she wanted now to especially address.

"Jack."

"Yes?" He was a little thrown by her informal address.

She wasn't really sure how to approach the topic she wanted to discuss. "You remember when we were trapped underground... the Gravedigger?"

As if he could ever forget. Even now, a chill ran through him at the memory. "Yeah."

She swallowed, trying to approach the subject delicately. "It seemed as though you had a, well a harder time getting past that than I did. I was wondering how you got there."

"Angela." He saw her look of confusion and continued. "After it happened, after we were rescued, I couldn't sleep. I wouldn't sleep. I was terrified that if I closed my eyes, I would open them and be back in that car with you, back underground." He paused and Brennan could see the anguish in his eyes. "It was Angela that got me through it. She let me talk when I needed to and just sat with me when I couldn't. I could sleep when I was with her. And, eventually, I kind of started to carry her with me, even when we weren't together."

Brennan smiled softly at him. "I'm glad you had her."

"And you have Booth. And the rest of us. You will get through this too."

Angela approached the table noting the more serious mood as she eased back into the booth. "What's going on?"

Jack pulled her against him tightly. "Just talking, babe." She looked between the two of them and relaxed against her husband. Booth soon returned to the table as well and Brennan quickly snuggled into his embrace. The four of them spent the rest of evening laughing and talking, each rejoicing in the camaraderie that had almost been stolen from them.


	15. A Bump in the Road

Booth and Brennan were just on the verge of sleep after an intimate end to their evening when his phone rang. Groaning, he grabbed it off the nightstand and answered, "Booth."

He listened for a minute and acknowledged the caller's message. Closing his phone, he gently kissed Brennan's forehead. "Baby, wake up."

She opened one eye and looked at him. "Why?"

"Some crew working the night shift on the Dulles Rail Project just found some bones near Tyson's Corner. They want us out there to check 'em out." He tried to keep his voice natural while observing her reaction. This would be the first criminal case she had worked since her attack.

Her eyes lit up and she was out of bed in a flash. "How fast can we get there?"

He breathed an inward sigh of relief as he grabbed his own clothes. _"We're back,"_ he thought with a smile.

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Everything was very normal at the crime scene, given that it was a crime scene. The work crew already had lights set up and the local police had taped the area off. Traffic was light at this time of night but rubberneckers were still causing a minor backup as they walked up to the body.

Brennan huffed. "Booth, there's still flesh on most of the body."

He pointed. "There's bones there... and there. Just go do your thing with what we've got and we'll get it back to the lab."

She knelt over the body and looked back up at Booth. "The remaining flesh is almost mummified." She returned to her examination and began to list off the characteristics she could determine. Once she had finished with her on-site examination, Booth talked to the foreman of the road crew, asking about any strange occurrences or disputes among the workers, while she supervised the removal of the remains.

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Brennan and the rest of the team were at the lab bright and early the next morning. It was fairly quickly determined that the mummification had probably resulted from the chemicals which had been regularly used to treat the roads from the winter weather in the last few weeks. An ID was obtained and Booth and Brennan went to inform the family. It turned out that he had indeed been a member of the road crew who had disappeared several weeks prior.

Monday afternoon found the two of them going to question several members of the road crew who had had problems with the victim at one time or another. There was nothing special about these interviews. It was too early in the investigation to even name them suspects. But Booth noticed something off with Brennan in the process; she was standing just slightly behind him and was uncharacteristically quiet. He filed this away for later as he tried to concentrate on his investigation.

For her part, Brennan was just focused on not running. As they approached the men, she felt strangely exposed; it was reminiscent of when she had been approached that fateful morning. They were talking to strangers, any of whom could be the murderer. Any of whom might kill to protect their secret. Never before had she found herself considering the ramifications of these interviews. She kept her hand curled tight around Jasper, nestled safely in her pocket, and focused her attention as best she could on the questions and answers being traded. Breathe in, breathe out.

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That night they were relaxing on Brennan's couch. She was laying back against him reading an anthropology journal while he watched a hockey game. Suddenly, his voice broke through her concentration. "You want to talk about what happened today?"

She froze for a second. Of course he had noticed her unusual behavior; she should have known better than to think he wouldn't.

He felt her hesitation. "It's okay. You don't have to if you don't want to. Just know that I'm here."

She shifted so that she could look back up at him and he could see traces of fear in her eyes. Whether it was from this conversation, memories of that morning, or something else, he wasn't sure. For her part, she saw that he was not demanding that she account for her behavior, as she would have once assumed, but that he was reaching out to her as a friend and a lover.

She rested back against him again as she began to talk softly. "I don't really understand what happened, myself. It just seemed to suddenly hit me that we put ourselves in danger every time we go after a suspect. I mean, look what happened to me, and we weren't even working that case!"

Booth bit back a grunt of frustration. He ran his hand through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "If we were investigating that together, I can guarantee it would never have gone in the direction it did. She was naive and reckless and that's what put you in that position." He paused, not wanting to offer her the choice, but feeling that it had to be said.

"If you feel like you want more time before going back in the field, that can be arranged. There's no rush."

"No," she replied earnestly. "It's important that I get back on the..." she trailed off as she searched her mind for the appropriate end to the phrase.

He smiled. "On the horse?" he suggested.

"Not a camel?" she questioned doubtfully.

He shook his head. "A camel is a horse designed by committee."

She craned her neck back to look at him directly, a look of utter confusion on her face. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I know, you don't know what that means."

"As long as you know what I mean," she replied.

"Always."

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The next day found Booth knocking on Sweets' office door. Although their conversation had seemed to relieve her of some of the tension, her sleep had still been plagued by nightmares. Booth had spent the majority of the night holding her as she thrashed in her sleep, fighting off unseen attackers.

Sweets smiled as he saw his visitor. "Booth, come on in." Sweets moved over to take his usual spot and offered the couch to Booth. Booth sat stiffly, tension radiating off him in waves. "How can I help you?"

Booth just jumped right in. "She's going to be required to testify at the trial." Sweets waited for him to continue, noting the hands balled into fists and the set of his jaw. This was obviously bothering Booth a great deal.

When Sweets didn't immediately respond, Booth took a second to try to marshal his thoughts. He continued, "You've testified. You know what it's like. They're going to come at her from all sides, try to attack her credibility. And the whole time that bastard's going to sitting right there, in the same room with her." He looked directly at Sweets, anger fighting pain in his eyes. "I need to know if she can handle it."

Sweets lifted his eyebrows slightly, a little taken aback by the request. "Isn't it possible that they won't need her testimony? Can't they make the case some other way?"

Booth shook his head. "We've got a great case, just not against Stilwell. There's no paper trail, no money trail, nothing leading back to him. This guy was practically a ghost. And nobody is rolling on him. Everyone's pointing fingers at each other but no one's naming him. Her testimony can put him in the same building at the same time the dealer was killed. So, I don't think they are going to entertain not putting her on the stand. But what I want to know now is has she come far enough that she can take it?"

Sweets thought for a moment before responding, deliberating using his friend's formal title to set a more professional mood. "Agent Booth, you know that I can't discuss her therapy with you." He waited anxiously for the explosion but was again surprised.

Booth visibly deflated a bit and nodded. "I know. I shouldn't have asked. I'm just worried." He slumped back against the couch. The anger left his face leaving him looking tired and stressed. He raised his hands helplessly. "It just seems like every time we take a step forward, we take one back. She went out to talk to some suspects with me yesterday and had nightmares all night." He shrugged. "I just want to fix this."

Sweets nodded. "I can't talk to you about her therapy, but I can talk to you as her friend. She's strong, Booth. We both know that. She will make it through this and really, the best thing you can do for is to keep reminding her who is; that she doesn't have anything to fear from someone like Stilwell."

Booth shook his head. "But she did have reason to fear him, didn't she?"

Sweets grimaced but replied, "She has you now."

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The next couple of days passed without incident. Despite her initial negative experience, Brennan continued to accompany Booth in the field and they began to make some progress in the case. Thursday afternoon found Booth with them in the lab as Hodgins was revealing his latest case-breaking find when the doors slid open and Caroline came in followed by several agents. Seeing them on the platform she hurried directly over to them with a grim look on her face.

Booth met her at the bottom of the steps to swipe his security badge and let her up. "What's going on?" he asked immediately.

"Bad things, cher. Very bad things." She turned to Brennan who was still half absorbed in the evidence Hodgins had been explaining. "Dr. Brennan, I have brought these very fine agents who will be providing a security detail for you." Before the questions could start, she added, "Ben Stilwell was just released on bond."

Brennan felt as if all the air had just been sucked from the room. Hodgins quickly jumped up from his stool and gently nudged her toward it. She sat quietly trying to think of the pertinent questions to ask in a situation like this. Then she realized that Booth was already asking them and Caroline was answering.

"This guy has some kind of pull is all I know. I was called an hour ago with five minutes notice for an emergency bail hearing."

"They already determined that he isn't eligible for bail due to the capital murder charge."

Caroline nodded. "And if that charge was still pending, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Booth's voice was ice cold. "What do you mean? You dropped the murder charge? He killed an FBI agent!"

Caroline shook her head. "His lawyer did some very fancy talking and the charge was thrown out over my strenuous objections. With that gone, the judge had to set bail. I'm on my way back to the office now to see what we can do about getting justice for Agent Davis. But I wanted to tell you all about this development in person."

Booth was at a loss for words, but suddenly Brennan's voice piped up. "I don't want protection." She winced a bit as they all turned to look at her but stood up on shaky legs. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

Angela moved to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. "Please, Bren?" Angela looked sad and scared. "I don't think I can do that again. I don't think any of us could."

Brennan felt her resolve begin to crumble in the face of Angela's distress. She glanced at Booth who was looking tense and worried as he waited to see how much of a fuss she was going to put up about this.

Hodgins pointed out, "This time the agents know who it is and what he looks like. He's not going to surprise them again."

Scenes from the night in her apartment kept flashing in front of her eyes. She could hear the gunshot; strange how it had sounded so different in the enclosed apartment opposed to the open air. She remembered seeing the EMTs working on the agents in her hallway readying them for transport to the hospital. She remembered the look on Booth's face when he had been informed that one of them hadn't made it. Although she logically knew that she bore no responsibility for that death, she did not want to see that look again.

Booth could almost read her mind, see her mentally digging her heels in and prepared to speak. Before he could say anything however, Caroline's phone rang and she walked a few steps away to have a hurried conversation. She returned looking even more unhappy than before.

"He's managed to lose the agents we put on his tail." She turned to Brennan. "Cherie, he means to do some dirty business, I have no doubt in my mind. Please, take the protection."

Looking at the look of fear and anxiety marring Booth's normally pleasing countenance, she nodded reluctantly.


	16. Sacrifice

It was a very subdued couple that went to bed that night. They had returned to Booth's apartment not long after Caroline's visit to the lab. While they held little hope that Stillwell wouldn't be able to locate them there, it felt like bad luck to return to Brennan's apartment, the site of both of her attacks. Conversation had been strained throughout the evening, despite each of their attempts to behave normally, and they went to bed early.

For a time, Booth lay quietly awake next to a sleeping Brennan, every sound in the apartment seeming ominous. Finally he fell into an uneasy sleep. Awakening suddenly a few hours later, he noticed her absence immediately. Every sense on alert, he felt for his gun on the night table, only to find it missing as well. Sliding quietly out of bed, he softly walked to the doorway and peered out into the silent living room. From the light of his desk lamp, he saw her sitting on the couch. No one else was in the room. He walked over and sat down next to her, gently taking the gun she had clutched in her hands and laying it on the table in front of them.

She looked over at him and said, "I can't sleep." He just nodded, letting her decide how much to share. She bit her lip, then burst out, "I hate feeling like this; so helpless! I sleep and I have nightmares. When I'm awake, I worry. I can't get him out of my mind. I keep looking through the peephole, checking the lock. None of it is helping."

Booth pulled her close to him and she rested her head on his shoulder. She could feel the stubble on his cheek and he kissed her forehead. "I'm not going to let him get you. I promise."

"We don't even know where he is," she said bleakly.

"We'll find him. Caroline and the agency are putting every available resource on this. We'll find him, we'll find a way to get him back behind bars and we can get back to our life."

She looked up at him and saw the absolute conviction in his eyes. She smiled. "We will, won't we?" He nodded. Her expression turned slightly mischievous. "But I still can't sleep. Do you have any suggestions for the short-term?"

In response, he lowered his head to hers and they lost themselves in each other until sleep finally claimed them for the night.

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They were awakened the following morning by the insistent sound of an alert on Booth's phone. Disentangling himself from Brennan, he grabbed his phone and read the message. Groaning, he headed for the shower, yelling back over his shoulder. "Cullen just called an all-hands meeting, probably about the latest threat level status. I'm going to have to hustle. Do you want to come with me? I can take you over to the lab afterwards."

Brennan stretched and followed him to the bathroom where he was starting a shower. "Actually, I'm meeting my dad at the diner for breakfast this morning. I'll have the agents drive me and then you can pick me up later."

Booth stuck his head around the shower curtain, frowning. "I don't like the idea of you sitting in the diner. It's too exposed. Plus, it's part of your regular routine; if he's after you, he's bound to look there."

Brennan considered his objections. Despite her instinctive dislike of being 'protected,' she had to admit that he had valid points. Reluctantly, she acquiesced. "Okay, I'll call him and ask him to bring breakfast to the lab." She dropped a quick kiss on his lips before he disappeared back behind the curtain and went to make her phone call.

Booth got out of the shower and dressed in record time. Cullen's summons didn't leave him a lot of time to get to the office. He found Brennan in the kitchen. "Everything set?" he asked, grabbing an apple.

"He didn't answer. I left him a message." She handed him a travel mug of coffee, picking one up for herself. Together, they headed toward the door.

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Booth headed back to the lab as soon as he got out of his meeting. It was still early enough that many people were just arriving, but when he walked in he saw her already up on the platform, completely immersed in her work. Wendell was working with her today and they were speaking animatedly over a skeleton. She glanced up as he neared the platform, surprise showing on her face. She walked down the steps to meet him.

"Your meeting is over already?" she asked.

He laughed. It was just like her to have already lost track of time for the day. "Bones, it's almost 9:00."

She shook her head, surprised. "I just thought my dad would have gotten here before you." Booth was also surprised to hear that Max hadn't shown up yet. He didn't usually miss a chance to spend time with his daughter. Looking over his shoulder, she saw the man in question entering the lab. "There he is."

The two of them walked over to greet Max, who had a takeout bag from the diner with him. Handing the bag to his daughter, he looked at her with concern. "You look tired, Tempe."

The tempting smells from the bag reminded Brennan of how hungry she was and she indicated that they should go eat in the lounge area, beginning to walk as she answered. "It was a long night, Dad. Stillwell is missing."

"Missing? You mean he skipped bail?" Max asked, sounding shocked. Booth narrowed his eyes as he considered the tone of Max's voice. Shock, but no anger or panic. Booth looked at him intently but Max was avoiding his eyes.

"We don't know yet. He just made bail yesterday. He hasn't officially missed any check ins yet," Booth answered. Just as they reached the stairs to the upper level, Wendell called for Brennan's assistance and she walked back over to the platform, leaving the tempting food with Booth.

"Where were you this morning, Max?" Booth asked pointedly.

Max shrugged. "Here and there."

"And what about last night?"

Max looked shrewdly at Booth, his mouth set in a grim smile. "Maybe," he stressed the word. " _Maybe_ I took a drive yesterday afternoon. Might have driven by here, your place, Tempe's place. And _maybe_ I saw someone lurking in her parking garage." He looked Booth straight in the eye. "Would you like me to continue, Agent Booth?"

Booth's jaw tightened. He looked back at Brennan, concentrating intently on whatever Wendell was showing her. Looking back at Max, he said, "Just get to the part I care about."

Max nodded. "She's safe, Booth. And you're going to know it pretty soon, I suspect."

Booth swallowed harshly as he looked at the other man. Suddenly the aromas floating from the bag he was holding were turning his stomach as he fought a battle within himself. It was obvious to him that Max had taken matters into his own hands. Booth stood there with no proof, just the knowledge hanging there in the air between the two of them. It was one thing when Brennan had used the system to get her father acquitted of murder; Booth had done his job and the system had fallen short, although he had been almost glad, for Bones' sake at least.

But this was different. The ball was in his court now. Did he open a case against Max Keenan, put Bones in the middle yet again? All for something he knew deep down in his heart that he would have done in a second had the circumstances presented themselves.

To let him get away with it went against every oath he'd ever taken, except one. He looked at the woman standing on the platform just as she flashed a brief smile of approval at Wendell. He had thought he had lost her for just a few hours and it had been almost too much to bear. He had sworn to himself that nothing would ever hurt her again. How could he blame Max for feeling the same way?

Max just stood there, waiting for Booth to come to a decision. He wasn't going to run. He had done the right thing; of that, he was confident.

At that moment, Cam walked out of her office and over to the two men, calling for Brennan to meet her.

When they were all within earshot, she said, "I just got a call. They found Stillwell, in a car at a campsite in Gambrill State Park. It looks like he killed himself."

There was silence for a minute as Brennan took it in. The lab seemed to spin for just a minute, then righted itself. She took a deep breath and said, "Okay, let me grab my bag and we'll head out there."

Booth's heartbeat accelerated and Max's eyes showed the alarm they both felt. Booth held out a hand. "Whoa, Bones. I think..." He took a deep breath. "I think maybe we're fine leaving this one to local authorities."

"Booth!" she protested. "I would think you would want to be sure it is handled with the highest level of competence. There could be other members of the conspiracy that we aren't aware of. This could be a murder."

Max stepped in, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Booth's right, honey. You're probably not the one who should be examining this guy. I mean, he tried to kill you."

She looked uncertain. Cam caught Booth and Max sharing a look and her eyes widened as she caught an inkling of what was being communicated. "I agree," she said, questioning Booth with her eyes. He shook his head slightly. "Dr. Brennan, I need your help here anyway. Uh..." She tried to think of something to distract the anthropologist from her desire to examine the body. Just then, one of the interns dropped a tray of something up on the platform. Brennan's face tightened as she went to see how much damage had been done.

Cam looked at the men. "Is this... Never mind, I don't want to hear the words." She started to walk away and then turned to Max. "You know you're still taking a chance here. Just because the locals aren't experts, doesn't mean they won't find anything."

Max shrugged. "If they find something, they do. I'm a big boy. I just don't want Tempe in that position."

Booth added. "Besides, suicide is usually only a cursory exam."

Cam sighed and shook her head. "I'll keep her busy for the next couple of hours, somehow. You better get that body into local custody ASAP." She hurried to her office to dig through her project list for something that would benefit from the anthropologist's expertise.

Max cleared his throat. "Booth, are you going to say something?"

Shaking his head, he began to walk away. Max called him again. "Booth!"

Booth turned around and looked at him. "What do you want me to say?" he asked angrily.

"No," Max replied. He nodded his head toward Brennan. "I mean, are you going to say anything... to her?"

"No," he said brusquely. "She doesn't need to know." He shoved the bag of food at Max. "Go have breakfast with your daughter."

Booth stepped out of the building, taking a deep breath and letting the cold air refresh him. Pulling his phone out, he quickly obtained the number of the local police department and was soon speaking with the chief.

"So, Chief, I was just hoping that we could have the results of the autopsy ASA, just so we can close our case."

"What case?" the chief questioned.

"This man was a defendant in a federal drug conspiracy case, as well as the death of a federal agent." Booth crossed his fingers as he said, "Really, I'm not surprised that he killed himself. He was looking at a long prison term, if he was lucky."

"All right, then, Agent Booth. We'll be happy to get you a copy of the results as soon as we can. It sure sounds like a straight-forward deal here. Thanks for the heads up."

Booth hung up and leaned against the cold brick. He knew he was going to be saying some Hail Mary's for this one. But he also knew that when he slid into bed next to her tonight, it would all be worth it.


	17. Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By my count the last chapter ended sometime around mid-March. We are now advancing in time...

**May 23, 2011**

Brennan sighed as she stood from her desk. Trying not to fidget she walked over to the glass-fronted cabinet of relics and used it as a mirror, smoothing her shirt down and examining her reflection critically.

Booth came up behind her, slipping his arms around her middle and nuzzling her neck. "You look great."

She turned to look at him doubtfully. "You are just saying that. Anthropologically speaking, males find females more attractive when..."

He cut her off with a kiss. "You. Look. Great."

She smiled shyly but then turned serious. "I don't know why I'm nervous. I just don't know what this reporter wants to talk to me about. I don't mind being a consulting contributor. It's just that I usually know what I'm consulting on beforehand."

"Well, your publicist signed off on it. Remember, keeping the buzz going between novels. She'll be here any minute. We'll get this over with and then go see Michael."

"And Angela and Jack also," she admonished. "You can't forget about the parents just because the baby's here now."

Booth turned her around and kissed her. Pulling back, he grinned at her. "Never."

She grinned back and was leaning in toward him to resume their kiss when there was a knock on the door. A young brunette woman was hovering in the doorway. As they looked over, not stepping away from each other, she introduced herself. "I'm Nancy Williams, from The Washington Post."

Brennan nodded. "We were expecting you."

Nancy looked somewhat embarrassed. "I don't want to interrupt. I can just wait outside while you finish up in here."

"Oh, you're fine," Brennan replied as she finally stepped out of Booth's personal spae and resumed her seat behind the desk. "This is Special Agent Seeley Booth and he is staying. We have an important meeting as soon as we're finished here."

"An important..." Nancy giggled uneasily. "Well, I'll try not to keep you."

"That is appreciated. Let's begin."

Somewhat flummoxed by the bluntness of Dr. Brennan, Nancy sat quickly in one of the chairs in front of Brennan's desk and pulled out a recorder which she switched on. Booth relaxed on the couch, prepared to be thoroughly bored by a dry conversation about bones.

"So," the reporter began. "I'm doing a preview article on Hannah Burley's new book and I was hoping you could give me some background to help add some color to the piece."

As soon as he heard Hannah's name, Booth sat up a little straighter. "Book?" Brennan questioned, blankly.

"Oh, you didn't know?" The reporter took in the startled look on Brennan's face and continued. "I assumed she would have told you, as you are mentioned several times. She's written a book on how she cracked the Stilwell drug ring."

Taking a deep breath, Brennan reined in the panicky feeling that was trying to take hold. Sweets had warned her that even though she had moved past the major effects of the trauma, it could still surprise her from time to time. Looking beyond the reporter, she saw Booth sitting there, barely concealed concern radiating, as he waited for her reaction. Catching his eyes with hers, she concentrated on the present reality, on the love and support that shone through those ever-expressive eyes. She had survived and come through the whole ordeal and was happier now than she had ever dreamed of being.

She nodded to him that she was okay and returned her attention to the reporter. "So how can I help you?" she asked.

"Well, I was just hoping to get some background, how it felt to help her as she uncovered such a huge drug ring, unmasking Stilwell, stuff like that."

Booth's face showed his displeasure as he wondered exactly what Hannah had put in this book. Brennan gritted her teeth as unobtrusively as possible and waited for the woman to ask a specific question. The reporter shifted uncomfortably in an unconscious response to the increased tension in the room. "For instance, the incident in the school sounded quite terrifying."

Brennan only nodded. Clearing her throat, the reporter forged ahead. "I mean, that was the first time that she came face to face with Stilwell, right?"

"That is correct."

Facing the same dilemma other reporters had encountered when interviewing the very literal and focused Dr. Brennan, she decided to indulge in some more provoking questions. "She describes the incident as," she checked her notes, "'fraught with tension, but requiring a cool head and keen observation to get out alive.' Is that how you remember it, Dr. Brennnan?"

Brennan couldn't suppress a short burst of laughter. "A cool head?" she repeated. "As in Hannah kept a cool head?"

"Is that not how you remember it?"

"No, I seem to recall more along the lines of screaming and crying, on her part anyway."

The reporter's eyebrows raised as she scribbled on a notepad, to back up her voice recording.

"Well, okay. But that was where you two saw him, right? And were able to provide a description?"

Brennan swallowed, remembering the cold look in his eyes in that room. "Yes, I was able to provide an accurate description for the authorities at a later date based on our meeting there."

"You were?" the reporter verified. "But didn't Hannah see him also?"

"I am not sure of what Hannah saw or didn't see, or what she able to retain from that day. Based on your questions, I have to say that I have serious doubts about the accuracy of her recollections."

Booth smothered a grin. Brennan's blunt assessment had thrown the reporter for a loop. He happened to agree with her, although he might ascribe more self-serving motives to Hannah's telling of the story than simply bad memory. His amusement was short-lived, though, as he realized that this would probably only be the first of many of these types of interviews that Bones would have to endure. Once the book was published, it was sure to come up even in interviews about her own novels.

"Dr. Brennan, you were injured after the publication of the initial article? On Stilwell's orders?"

Brennan nodded shortly. "I was surprised by an attack outside my apartment that morning, yes."

"But surely you must have realized that the article would put both of you in danger?" She glanced back at Booth. "I mean, he works with the FBI. Justice had already started serving warrants. Why weren't you provided with protection?"

Brennan's face was icy. "First, I am fully capable of protecting myself in most situations. Second, I had no idea that the article was being published. And third, the FBI and Justice apparently had no idea that I had been threatened should the facts of the case ever come to light."

The reporter, still young enough to be idealistic, paled as she read between the lines of Brennan's answer. "She didn't tell you?" She looked back toward Booth again and saw his face drawn tight. "She didn't tell either of you?" He shook his head but didn't speak. It wasn't his interview, wasn't his place.

Brennan spoke up instead, in her usual matter-of-fact tone. "No, neither of us were informed. The first Booth knew was when he saw the article in his newspaper that morning. The first I knew was, I suppose technically, when I was shot, although I did not know the reason for the attack until after I woke up at the hospital."

"Oh god," Nancy whispered. "I had no idea. The whole thing read so," she shook her head. "So much like a mystery novel. I should have suspected... Well, life usually isn't so neat as the story I read." She looked down at her notes and then back up at Brennan. "I don't suppose you're going to write a book on your experience with this case?"

Brennan shook her head no. The reporter sighed. "Well, I'm going to have to rethink this article. Dr. Brennan, may I call you again for some follow-up questions? And perhaps you also, Agent Booth?"

Booth waited to reply until he heard Bones' response. He was eager to correct any inaccuracies in Hannah's book, but this was Bones' story, as far as he was concerned, and he wouldn't do anything unless she did. She thought for a minute. It was extremely uncomfortable reliving the experience, even more so having to refute or correct statements that Hannah was apparently making. But this young reporter seemed to have a zeal for the true story, not for trying to fit Brennan's answers into her preconceived framework, or worse, ignoring them altogether. Brennan wanted to reward that type of behavior. She nodded.

"I believe that would be acceptable."

The reporter smiled, relieved. "Thank you so much, Dr. Brennan." With that, she gathered her things up and left, shaking her head at the twist this story was taking. Brennan sat in her chair staring after the girl for a minute. Finally Booth got up and went over to her desk. Perching on the edge, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "We should get going. Angela sounded so excited to see you this morning."

Brennan nodded quietly and stood up to leave. Booth watched her as she gathered her things without a word, wondering what was going on in her head. It had been a long, hard road over the past few months. After lots of hard work on Brennan's part, with the support of all her friends, she was finally resuming what passed for a normal life in their circle. He wondered if there would be any fallout from this little surprise.

She spent the first half of the ride over staring out the window, as she was wont to do when something was on her mind. Booth gave her time to mull it over; there was no point in trying to force her to talk.

Finally she turned to him. "Why did you let me say all those things? She must have a horrible impression of Hannah now."

Booth turned an incredulous face to her. "That's what's bothering you? Her impression of Hannah? Why would I have stopped you?"

"Well, you always tell me that sometimes the truth is not the best thing to say. And I am beginning to think that maybe this was one of those times. It certainly will hurt Hannah if my account of events makes it into the public eye."

Booth sighed. Their running discussion of when honesty is the best policy reared its ugly head again. "Bones, if you had gone to the reporter of your own choosing to say those things about Hannah, that would be over-honest. But you didn't. She came to you. And she came to you because Hannah put her version of events out there for the public. When you share information with the world, you have to expect it will be challenged, like when you publish a paper."

Brennan was listening intently. He continued, "If you published a paper with data you knew was incorrect, would you be surprised that the correct data comes to light?" She shook her head slowly. He shrugged. "Neither should Hannah." He thought for a minute. "Although I don't know what she was thinking to put that stuff out there."

They pulled up in front of the Hodgins' building. He parked and then turned to face her. "I am so sorry that I brought her into our lives and for everything that happened." He leaned toward her, giving her as much of a hug as the front seat would allow.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize. After all, some good came out of it." He looked at her. She smiled. "I have no idea if I would have been able to recognize my feelings for you without that time." She laughed ruefully. "Although I could have done without getting shot."

After giving Booth a long, slow kiss with promises of what was to come, she pulled back with an excited grin. "Now, let's go see that baby!"

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Angela opened the door and greeted them with a weary smile and a one-armed hug, while holding baby Michael in the other. "Perfect timing! He just woke up. So did I actually," she admitted, slightly abased.

Booth laughed. "You're supposed to sleep when he does, Angela. Otherwise, you will cease to function."

"I know, it just feels weird," she agreed, laughing softly. "I'm just used to always doing something."

Brennan protested, with great feeling. "But you are. You're providing support and sustenance to your progeny, which I understand takes a great amount of energy, both physical and emotional."

Angela looked at her best friend curiously and then shook her head. "Come on in and sit down. Jack is making up some snacks." They followed her into a casual and comfy family room that was now littered with baby accessories and settled on the couch. No sooner had Brennan seated herself than Angela was handing her the baby with a great big smile. "Here's your Aunt Bren, sweetie."

Brennan looked with wonder at the week-old infant in her arms. Already, he had grown since she had held in the hospital just days ago, yet he was still so small. She smiled up at her friend. "He is so beautiful, Ange." Quickly returning her gaze to the baby, she ran her finger lightly down his cheek and then allowed his tiny fist to grab on to it, relishing in the feeling of that tiny, solid grip.

Angela watched contentedly. This was perfect. She had always known that Brennan was going to be a great aunt. She glanced at Booth sitting on the other end of the couch, watching the two of them with an entranced look. Her eyes narrowed and a mischievous grin played at the corners of her mouth.

"Bren, you just look so perfect with that baby. You should have one of your own." Seeing the blush spread across Brennan's cheeks and Booth shifting uncomfortably, Angela's eyes widened and she looked back and forth between the two sitting on the couch. "Oh my god, you're pregnant?" she asked.

Brennan looked at Booth for guidance, but he just smiled at her, nodding to indicate that her response was entirely up to her. So, she nodded. "Yes, about eight weeks."

Angela squealed as she got up from her seat and scurried over to give Brennan a hug, beaming at Booth on the way. "This is fantastic!"

Drawn by the strange radar that new parents have, Hodgins appeared in the doorway, wearing an apron declaring 'Artists Do It Creatively' and holding a plate of bread. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously, scanning the room any obvious problems.

Angela looked up from where she crouched next to the couch. "Michael's going to have a cousin!" Hodgins took a second to process his wife's statement, put that together with the slightly embarrassed look on Brennan's face and the barely concealed pride on Booth's and was grinning almost as much as his wife.

Brennan shook her head. "Well, technically, they won't be cousins because..." she trailed off as everyone looked at her with exasperation. She shrugged. "Okay, I'll concede that socially they will be as close as cousins." She laughed as Angela gave her another hug, Michael finally wailing at the continued jostling and Angela's outbursts. Giving him back to his mother, she scooted closer to Booth on the couch.

"I thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone yet," she said quietly.

"It's Angela," he answered. "We were fools if we really thought we could keep it from her much longer." He watched Angela soothing Michael back to a peaceful state, and imagined that in less than a year, Bones would be doing the same thing with their child. Throwing an arm around her, he kissed her hair, silently thanking God for their good fortune.

Hodgins left and came back in a few minutes with several plates of inviting appetizers. The four friends spent the afternoon talking, playing with Michael, and making plans for outings with the kids.

Brennan found herself pondering how rich and full her life seemed now compared to only five months ago. They had grown so far apart, she hadn't thought that they would ever find their way back to this place. She had certainly never imagined that she would be trading morning sickness remedies with Angela as Booth and Hodgins discussed the relative merits of sports versus academic extra-curricular activities. Laughing in joy to herself, she snuggled Michael closer to her and jumped in the guys' conversation, looking forward to years more of this yet to come.

 

The End


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